


Ardent

by Blizzaurus



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Jane Austen Fusion, Alternate Universe - Persuasion fusion, Alternate Universe - Pride and Prejudice Fusion, Enemies to Friends to Lovers (sort of), F/M, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Regency Romance, Requited unrequited love (or so it seems), The number is probably higher than you think, Witness at how many proposals Marcus Kane is able to fail
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-04-23 11:02:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 67,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14331075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blizzaurus/pseuds/Blizzaurus
Summary: It is a truth universally acknowledged that a headstrong widow must be in want of all the happiness for her daughter — and a slightly more exciting life than the serene countryside of Hertfordshire, 1814. But when two wealthy gentlemen rent the estate bordering the cottage of the impoverished Griffins, the news rouses every marriage-minded mother of the area into a fierce joy - except for Abby Griffin. The reason for her mortification is the steely gaze of her new neighbour, Admiral Kane; a man she hasn't seen for two decades and would've desired the fact remain forever unaltered.After 8 long years, Admiral Kane finds the courage to offer some courteous assistance to the wife his dear friend has left behind - only to be faced with a pair of brown, fiery eyes and memories of the past so shameful he can barely hold her gaze. To the chagrin of the local ladies, he has absolutely no intention to obtain himself a wife by the end of the hunting season, but as time passes, he finds himself being persuaded of the opposite by the terrifying hope growing in his heart...A story of love, family, simmering passion, persuasion and pride & prejudice. Or in a nutshell: my love letter for Jane Austen.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If it was not clear from the summary, this a Jane Austen AU with Pride & Prejudice and Persuasion mashed together to form a lovely little romantic mess. There are a lot of Austen references but you don't need to have read any of her works to read this as the plot is wholly original with only some scenes lifted from the novels. Don't get too mad about any potential historical inaccuracies that might've slipped in - I'm only human, after all. 
> 
> (Also, Jackson has been gender-bent for this fic. You are free to ask me why and any other questions that may arise while reading the fic but spoiler alert: almost every decision like this I've made has been due to better historical accuracy.)
> 
> Please enjoy!

Polis Park had been let at last.

That was at least what Abby was able to make out of Mrs Sydney's whispered words. Judging by her fervent tone and gleaming eyes, Mrs Sydney expected her to react with nothing less than wonder and rejoice at the spectacular news, but Abby found it rather hard to do so in the middle of the church service and had little interest in engaging in one of her schemes regarding the poor souls that had rented the estate.

Mrs Sydney attempted to grab her attention again. She had perfected the tactic of sharing gossip in church without attracting a mean glare from vicar Muir; she simply kept her face turned towards the pulpit and her head lowered so that the direction of her gaze and the movements of her mouth were hidden by her elaborately trimmed bonnet. She proceeded in squeezing Abby's hand, the hushed words falling from her lips yet again.

"Didn't you hear? You shall have new neighbours soon."

Abby decided there was no other choice but to indulge her.

Seating herself next to her hadn't been a conscious choice rather than a misfortune born out of common courtesy. The wealthy widow had been reserving Abby a seat in the very first pew ever since she and Clarke had been forced to relocate to Hertfordshire after Jake's death. Abby supposed as the wealthiest and most influential woman of the parish Mrs Sydney felt obliged to distribute charity to a widow in far more pressing circumstances. A small part of Abby, the part that still remembered the time she had shared the same status as Mrs Sydney, felt offended. However, her company was occasionally even preferable to the company of couples still happily married which had a wistful effect on Abby.

"I have heard spoken of something like that," she briefly replied. It was impossible not to hear about the news regarding the lands bordering the small cottage she and Clarke shared, and she had followed the developments with an appropriate amount of interest. It was, however, hard to deny that possibility of some new faces wasn't an exciting prospect in this rather dull country village that had now been her home for the past eight years.

"Two gentlemen," Mrs Sydney whispered, leaning over. "Rich. Well-bred.  _Single_. What a splendid thing for the ladies here, don't you think?"

Abby wasn't stupid enough to believe that Mrs Sydney actually had the best of any local lady in mind, especially not Clarke. Mrs Sydney had invited two of her young, beautiful nieces to stay in her house for the hunting season the moment she had heard the news. Obtaining husbands for her relatives was one of her more peculiar hobbies she pursued in order to alleviate her boredom.

Abby's sweet daughter was sitting only a few rows behind with her friends, probably doodling in the back of the pew in order to keep herself from nodding off while Mr Muir droned on, blissfully uninterested in the topic the whole church seemed to be whispering about. In any other life Abby would've been proud of her indifference as she believed a woman should marry only if she wished to do so, but that, unfortunately, was not the lot that had fallen to them.

The more years passed by, the more Abby Griffin understood how little widowhood suited her. Not that she supposed it brought anyone particular joy, although she had seen many women benefit from their newfound independence the loss of one's husband sometimes brought forth. She had been out of mourning for seven years but still found it hard to accept Jake wouldn't eventually come back to her from one of his business trips. She sometimes found herself in the hills staring off into the distance, expecting to see his carriage approaching.

But the carriage and the horses were long sold, the estate they had cultivated together entailed away, their home county left behind for a small rented cottage in Hertfordshire. The only thing she had left of him was his wedding ring on her finger.

Abby couldn't even spare a thought to what would happen to Clarke if she remained unmarried and her mother happened to pass away. Mrs Sidney knew the situation of the Griffin family but seemed to only enjoy aggravating it; the difference of wealth between Mrs Sydney and Mrs Griffin was so substantial that there was no doubt which woman was actually in a desperate need for a good marriage for her next of kin. Regardless, Mrs Sydney would do everything in her power to secure the gentlemen for her nieces wealthy enough not to even need husbands.

"The younger gentleman is a baronet," Mrs Sydney drawled.

Abby pretended to be excessively interested in Muir's poorly constructed sermon about the wifely duties in order to drown out Mrs Sydney's voice.

"As for the older gentleman, I have heard he is a retired naval officer, about our age and still unmarried! He rose to the rank of Vice Admiral and would've advanced further, I can only presume, if it was not for his leg injury. But what a splendid thing! Now he ought to settle down and what a perfect way to do so by obtaining himself a pretty little wife from here to bring back to his large estate in the north."

Abby smiled at the thought of the poor veteran having to escape from Mrs Sydney's machinations with his bad leg. She could only feel sorry for Mrs Sydney's poor nieces that would be forced to chase after him, a man twice of their age. However, her smile soon faded as her mind drifted off to her usual worries about Clarke. 

"I should be the most ecstatic if Harper and Felicity were both to be engaged by Boxing day!" Diana exclaimed, then turned her head to examine whether Mrs Griffin was still listening.

Rather annoyed to mark that Mrs Griffin's eyes had glossed over, she chose her words next with provocation in mind. "As a mother, you ought to understand how important their prospects are to me."

Mrs Griffin didn't answer. She appeared too lost in her thoughts to react properly as often was the case. With pity flooding her heart, Diana watched her start to fiddle with her ring.

Her soul was not romantic enough to believe that Mrs Griffin _truly_ missed her husband. Diana had rid herself of the mourning ribbons the second it had been appropriate do so, and hardly paid late Mr Sydney a thought more often than once in a while, and never in a fond sense. No, she was of the vigorous opinion that Abby rather mourned the loss of her fortune and social standing; the most indispensable elements of her own life. Truly, she could feel nothing but pity towards the poor widow who had lost almost everything that made life tolerably comfortable with the death of her husband.

It had been an advantageous match to both parties, that Diana couldn't deny; From what she had heard, Mr Griffin had been a young, handsome law student with a substantial inheritance just waiting by his mother's deathbed. Abby had been a beautiful, accomplished physician's daughter with an attractive enough dowry. They had married within merely few months of their first meeting and had Diana been acquainted with her at that time, her congratulations would have been abundant. She herself had ensnared a wealthy esquire about the same time. 

It was truly a shame how prone Mr Griffin had been to catching foreign illnesses abroad, and how foolishly optimistic the man had been of the multitude of years ahead of him and the possibility of a male heir for him to even think about saving to ensure his wife's uttermost luxury. The estate had been entailed away from the female line after the death of Mr Griffin's mother, his inheritance leaving his wife and daughter barely a sixpence. For the past eight years, Mrs Griffin had been supporting her daughter with only the interest if her dowry - and it showed. In retrospect, such a financially careless husband had been a truly unfortunate choice. This Diana liked to express to Mrs Griffin often as she could.

What a terror to be forced to switch a magnificent estate to a tiny cottage in someone else's land! How devastating that for the want of carriage Mrs Griffin was forced to walk everywhere!

As she continued these usual woes of sympathy, Mrs Griffin's countenance grew more and more rigid, her cheeks gaining even a hint of red.

"Perhaps Clarke will," she eventually said with a quiet but firm voice.

"I'm sorry?"

"She could be the one to _catch_ the baronet. Who knows?"

The statement was so absurd Diana didn't know whether to laugh or cry. But there was something in Mrs Griffin's expression that suggested utter earnestness, perhaps even mockery of Diana.

She tilted her chin up and refused to utter one word more to Mrs Griffin during the service which seemed to oddly enough please the woman. A decision was made; Diana ought not to seek out her preposterous company for a while.

* * *

At the end of the service and finally outside, Abby was glad to have somehow offended Mrs Sydney as it relieved her of the woman's company for the rest of the day, possibly for the whole of next week before she went mad of boredom and decided to call on Abby again. She was just about to share this event with her dearest friend Callie who had emerged out of church arm in arm with her husband - only to be frozen in terror at the sound of her own name. 

"Mrs Griffin!"

Abby internally winced at the voice of her landlord. The very man she had tried to avoid seeing for next week or so.

She forced a pleasant smile on her face and turned to Mr Jaha. The man took off his hat and made an overtly deep bow, one that Abby could've deemed even mocking if she wouldn't have been already aware of the ridiculousness of his character.

"What a fine weather we have today, almost as fine as your-"

Abby cut him off before he'd say something that would embarrass him later. "Mr Jaha, I know I'm behind in my payments and I'm deeply sorry, the past few weeks have been...

He waved his hand in dismissal, his smile sickly sweet.

"Don't you trouble yourself with it," he said. "I'm going to make sure that those kinds of concerns soon won't vex you ever again."

Abby quirked her brow. Mr Jaha was truly a peculiar man. He had been agreeable if only a rather distant landlord for the past seven and a half years from the moment he had first written to her and offered the small cottage "perfectly suitable for a widow with such a small income," but ever since his wife's death half a year ago he had either acted like a lost puppy, never quite sure where to be or what to do, or like this, making strange remarks and being so overtly lenient Abby suspected he was getting soft in the head. Sending Abby constant gifts of produce and game while letting her fall behind on rent was not in any way sensible for his finances, but Abby prayed it was only because Mr Jaha truly did not know how to manage his chequebook without his wife rather than for any other ulterior, chill-inducing motive.

His hand was now hovering between them, threatening to lower itself on her shoulder. "Perhaps you and Clarke would like a ride back to your cottage?"

Abby took a step back before his hand would fall on her and thought of a quick excuse. "And as you said, the weather is fine, too fine for carriages this lovely morning. I'd much rather walk. Oh, I already see Mrs Sinclair. I shall go to her at once to share some delightful news. Thank you!"

Then she scurried off to Callie with a fire under her tail, leaving Mr Jaha looking after her even more lost than before.

Callie swiftly captured Abby in the crook of her arm to lead her away, understanding the situation perfectly. There was a reason why she was Abby's dearest friend despite the difference in their situations; Callie had been happily married for several years now to a husband with a considerable fortune, making her the second most important woman in the parish right after Mrs Sydney. 

"I wish to live to see the day Mr Jaha realises how improper he is constantly being with you," she complained as they embarked upon their journey back to the village. Clarke was walking with her friend Miss Reyes ahead of them, so perfectly out of hearing range that Abby felt comfortable talking about the matter without burdening her daughter with worry.

"I doubt he is conscious of that. It's been so Iong since he has last socialised with the opposite sex without his wife that it shouldn't be surprising he lacks some grace. I believe he's only trying to be amiable," she continued, almost believing her own justification of his actions.

Callie didn't offer a reply and chose to only shot her an unsure look. However, she soon chose to change the topic of conversation as she noticed how uncomfortable it made Abby.

"I saw you sitting with Mrs Sydney. Has she already paired off her closest unmarried relatives with the two gentlemen to come?"

"Yes, actually. I believe I heard her speak of her nieces Miss Fox and McIntyre as if they were already engaged to be wed."

Callie snorted at that. "I hope the men know what they are in for. As soon as they step out of their carriages, they are rightful property of the local mothers and matchmakers."

"I ought to be jumping up and down from joy," Abby said dryly.

A heavy silence fell upon them as they both considered the situation outside the frames of humour.

"It _is_ a good opportunity for Clarke," Callie said in a serious tone.

Abby nodded somberly. She was far too aware that this was the chance of a lifetime to secure Clarke a home for the future. If only her daughter should fall in love with him...

Gods, she was starting to sound like her own mother.

”I’d only encourage the match if the young baronet is a true gentleman; nothing less will do,” she whispered to Callie.

”I have a heard a great deal of good-” Callie tried.

”You are not fooling us with your coy looks! I can hear you scheming for Clarke all the way from here.” Raven called out, turning to face them. ”You’re talking about the newcomers, aren’t you?”

Seeing her good-humoured look, Abby brought a weak smile on her face, deciding to play along. ”Indeed we are, but how do you know we aren’t plotting to throw _you_ in the way of marriage?”

”My dear Abby, you know very well that I’m a lost cause,” she said, mirth spilling from her eyes.

Raven Reyes was one of the few girls completely devoid of any desire to marry, even as the eldest daughter of a large, rather poor family. Year after year as she expressed no interest in intermingling with the opposite sex made Abby, however, suspect that the truth was more complicated than her being simply unwilling to marry. Abby suspected that the letters tied with red ribbon Raven received almost every day had something to do with it.

"Clarke is in far more danger than me," she continued, teasing her friend.

Clarke stuck out her chin. "Only the deepest love will persuade me to marry. Men are only a distraction from my art."

"As a wife of a baronet, you shall have all the time in the world to focus on your drawings," Raven quipped.

"Oh shut it, _lady_ Raven," she shot back, emphasising the title Raven herself would gain if she married a baronet. Raven responded by knocking Clarke’s bonnet off her head, and the soon girls were engaged in a wild chase through the pasture, the hems of their skirts waving as they laughed and accused each other of fortune-hunting.

Abby observed the sight with a sad smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Callie wrapped her arm around her comfortingly.

”I only hope she'd have more to choose from,” Abby sighed, thinking of all the trips Jake would’ve made with Clarke, all the seasons in London, the art supplies and dresses she would have had.

Callie gently squeezed her hand and Abby gratefully returned the gesture. They both a laid one more look at her only daughter.

”Who wouldn’t instantly fall head over heels for her?” Callie asked.

Abby laughed. ”Poor man, he won’t know what struck him.”

”Indeed.”

* * *

Fortunately, as long as two weeks passed without any contact from Mrs Sydney until the day the woman undoubtedly grew so restless without anyone to gossip with that she decided to bury the hatchet and send over a card, inviting herself rather presumptuously over.

Mrs Byrne, one of the maids of the Griffin family, let out a rather unladylike word as she was presented with the card.

”Let me make a bold guess, the good lady wants to enjoy her tea _outside_?”

Mrs Sydney has previously expressed how ”nervous” and ”suffocated” she felt in the cramped sitting room of the Griffins even though it was more than spacious enough for five souls. These kinds of thinly veiled insults made Abby want to chase Mrs Sydney off her property with a broom, but common courtesy commanded otherwise.

Thus, Abby and the two servants she afforded to keep spent the next morning carrying the furniture outside. After the deed was done, Abby shuffled her feet upstairs and collapsed on the bed, already counting seconds until the excruciating visit would be over. She didn't have time to rest for too long before her abigail knocked on the door.

"Time to prepare you for battle," she said, flicking open Abby's day dress.

"Can't you just say I have suddenly become bed-ridden with a terminal illness, miss Jackson?" Abby sighed.

"I wish I could, Abby," Jackson said, her Christian name falling from her lips with ease.

Mrs Sydney might just swoon if she witnessed this role reversal with the forms of address. She called all of her servants by their first names, even the upper servants, and anyone caught calling her Diana would be out of her house before the last syllable even rolled off their tongue. But Jackson had been with Abby as long as she could remember, and there was something so mature and venerable in the young woman's countenance that Abby couldn't imagine calling her Erica instead of Miss Jackson. The girl had also been calling her Abby from the very first moment it had slipped from her lips in a concerned tone. Now Abby was more than used to her calling her by her Christian name while fussing over her.

"I was under the impression that Mrs Sydney was cross with you. I have to ask, what is the reason for her visit?"

Abby rolled her eyes. "She undoubtedly wants to share all the details about her call on Sir Lincoln."

During these past few weeks, she had only learned the young baronet's name, but not much else as she had not been talking with Mrs Sydney. The Griffins also had no means of calling on Sir Lincoln or his family without a husband or a male relative which made tying an acquaintance impossible before they could be introduced in any other setting.

"How did Mrs Sydney manage to call on him?"

"I can only imagine she took advantage of her brother."

Mrs Sydney had all the comforts of widowhood without the usual nuisances of not being able to call on gentlemen or travel without a male escort, for she had arranged so that her brother, Mr Shumway lived with her. The man was only more than happy to take part on her sister's little schemes, if he in exchange was left in peace to study the excessively moralizing texts of Mrs Sydney's library. He socialized with the community very little outside of Mrs Sydney's influence.

Abby explained to Jackson that Mr Shumway had been most likely sent in his way after the gentlemen had settled in their new home in order to make the acquaintance amongst the very first. Then, they had been obliged to return the favor and call on them, giving Mrs Sydney a splendid chance to showcase her nieces.

"Poor Mr Shumway, he has no other purpose for Mrs Sydney than to be used in such a manner."

"It's an arrangement that works well for them both, I believe. I feel sorrier for the poor gentlemen immediately thrust upon her nieces. And the admiral is twice their age, I have heard. However, if he had married when most people do before amassing his fortune he wouldn't have to deal with people like Mrs Sydney."

Jackson grew quiet at that.

"You still haven't caught the admiral's last name?" she eventually asked, helping Abby with her dress.

"I only know of Sir Lincoln, and of some relatives he brought with him, but I don't know hardly anything about the other gentleman."

"Abby, I think you should know that-"

Just then there were sounds of bustling heard from downstairs. Mrs Byrne had received Mrs Sydney and the two young ladies. Abby had to rush down to greet them, leaving her conversation with Jackson for another time.

Mrs Sydney had barely been seated before she started her review of yesterday's events.

"Sir Lincoln - the most agreeable, handsome young man in all of England!" she declared even before her bottom had landed on the chair with a thump. "He seemed to be uttermost enchanted with Harper's skills with the harp."

The statement made miss McIntyre squirm in her seat. She looked just as pleased to be there as Clarke who was staring disinterestedly in the distance, already dreaming about returning to her canvas.

"And how about the rest of his family?" Abby asked politely.

"His lady mother is a striking woman, although somewhat... distant. With time, I do believe I can gain a good friend from her," Mrs Sydney said, although the unusual uncertainty in her voice made Abby doubt the baronet's mother had taken any liking to Mrs Sydney.

She continued. "Her name is lady Indra Trigeda, widow of the late Sir Lincoln of Devonshire. The poor woman had had the worst of luck as all of her three children are born from different husbands. Sir Lincoln is the eldest son, born from her second marriage to the baronet. Her youngest, miss Gaia Trigeda, is currently residing in a boarding school in London, so we didn't have the fortune to meet her - But her eldest daughter from her first marriage is the very picture of elegance. Miss Alexandra Woods is accomplished, well-bred, unparalled in looks, although unfortunately old. It's truly a shame that she hadn't been married yet, but it's only natural that some women have as their lot to stay as old maids."

After saying that, she spared Clarke a brief, cool glance which made Abby draw her mouth in the tightest of lines. Mrs Sydney truly made it hard to remain polite at times.

"And the admiral must be one of the most handsome men I have ever seen," Mrs Sydney added. "For any other man, having a beard would be an unforgivable crime but his utter disregard for the latest fashion is charming, in a way, and suits him extremely well. He is also tall, has a handsome posture and every inch of him commands respect. Oh, if only I were 20 years younger..." she chuckled.

Abby knew she was only being humorous as she knew Mrs Sydney was not the most avid admirer of the opposite sex in general, but she thought there was something very wrong with the fact that Mrs Sydney couldn't even consider herself a prospect even though she was the of the same age as this admiral. Even with her wealth, she was long past the eligible age, and Abby didn't even want to think about how early she herself would have been put on the shelf. 

Mrs Sydney continued. "However, it is unfortunate that he is of lesser birth. I have always disliked how naval career has given some men an unfair chance to climb the social ladder and gain wealth their fathers could've only dreamed off. But alas, he is rich and will do perfectly well for Felicity as I doubt he will be too picky. He ought not to be since naval officers usually have the most abhorrently tanned skin. But better than nothing, indeed!"

Abby didn't know whether she felt sorrier for the admiral for being so harshly judged because he had worked for his fortune instead of inheriting it, or for the young miss Fox who was quivering like a leaf in her seat at the thought of having to try to seduce this man.

"He is also well acquainted with a young, wealthy gentleman called Blake from Derbyshire. Another good opportunity if this one falls through,” she said, looking pointedly at Miss Fox. She lowered her gaze, blushing. Abby suspected this wasn’t the first time Mrs Sydney tried to marry the young girl off.

"I hear Derbyshire is a lovely place," Abby said quickly in order to change the topic.

"Admiral Kane has a remarkable estate there. Of course, it's no equal to anything Sir Lincoln will inherit but... my dear, Mrs Griffin, are you quite alright? You look as pale as a ghost!"

Abby was petrified. It took a long, embarrassing moment before she would regain the control of her vocal cords.

"I'm sorry, did you say Kane?" she asked carefully. There was still a slight possibility Mrs Sydney wasn’t talking about _him_ , maybe she'd misheard. Because it couldn't be possible that-

"I'm speaking of Admiral Marcus Kane from Sussex," Mrs Syney said slowly, expressing great interest in Abby’s reaction. Even Clarke was looking at her mother with concern.

”Wasn't that the place you lived in as a married woman? Perhaps you knew him," Mrs Sydney drawled.

All of a sudden, it was hard to breathe. Abby desperately willed her blood to stay away from cheeks while she tried to continue sipping from her cup - which proved soon to be impossible as she couldn't stop her hands from shaking. _Don't let it show!_ her mind was screaming, but another part of her replied by shrieking _Let what show? There's nothing to show!_

”The name sounds familiar,” she said with as much nonchalance as she could muster. "He must be one of the men living in Mr Griffin's estate decade or two ago."

"So you've met him?"

Abby attempted to discreetly swallow down the large lump that had formed in her throat. "Yes, I believe so."

"How delightful," Mrs Sydney said, staring at Abby as if she was an insect under her magnifying glass. "Perhaps you're able to tell us what he was like as a young man?"

Abby immediately thought of his warm brown eyes, the unruly curl that fell on his forehead constantly, his smile that had to be coaxed to appear for hours, his laugh that was worth every bit of that work and finally, the soft voice in which he said her name, the sweet syllables falling from his lips like droplets of honey.

But other memories also flooded her mind. 

_The venom in his voice the last time he spoke to her. The betrayal in his eyes. The emptiness after he was gone._

"I don't remember much of him, I'm afraid," Abby answered.

"Oh, do at least tell us why do you think he never married! You must have your own suspicions. Since he never once smiled during the visit yesterday, I'm suspecting he has horrendously bad teeth-"

Abby rose from the table. "Excuse me. I- I'll go fetch for some more tea."

"You have servants for that," Mrs Sydney said curtly, but Abby had already determined to escape.

After having heard her come back inside, Jackson immediately rushed after her into the kitchen.

"Abby! I'm sorry, I tried to warn you!" she exclaimed.

Abby was only able to wave her hand at her dismissingly as she leaned herself against the counter, struggling to catch her breath. Even in the company of her trusted companion, she still found it hard to show this sort of vulnerability, especially when it came to _him_.

"It's nothing... I can only blame myself for not inquiring after his name sooner."

"Are you sure you're alright?"

 _No, I'm not_ , she wanted to say. Marcus- No, Admiral Kane was in the same county, in the same village even, treading the same paths as her and breathing the same air. _How could she be alright?_

"Of course," Abby eventually choked out. "This was only a bit of surprise, but nothing I cannot manage."

"If he knew how this would upset you, he wouldn't have even thought about coming here. I'm sure of it," Jackson tried to comfort.

"No, no. He can do whatever he pleases," Abby said with a weak voice, straightening her spine. She had to return to Mrs Sydney before she grew suspicious. "It ought to be me who should be avoiding him, not the other way around”

Jackson observed her with curiosity, and Abby just knew what question he was burning to ask next.

"You never did tell me what happened," she said carefully.

Abby let out a deep sigh, trying to find the words that revealed as little as possible about the mortification they had both been put through. "We used to be friends. We are not anymore. These sorts of things do sometimes happen."

Jackson seemed a little dissatisfied with the answer, but even her, as dear as she was, wouldn't be able to wrench the whole truth out of Abby. She would hopefully be able to keep it buried in her heart until the end of her days, although the return of Kane had just made everything far more complicated. 

"Ah. I always just thought—"

It seemed agonising for Jackson to even finish the sentence judging by the expression on her face, but Abby's urging look eventually encouraged her to continue. "I thought that Kane had perhaps been _disappointed_ in some way, and that caused the breach between you two."

The pot almost fell off Abby’s hands at that.

"Gods, no!"

The sheer horrification in her voice made Jackson immediately bow her head down in shame.

"I am sorry, I shouldn't have assumed-"

"No, you _shouldn't have_ ," Abby said with a tone probably harsher than necessary, but her hands were still shaking and it was hard not to concentrate on anything else but that insufferable sign of weakness. She put down the pot and continued to speak with a wavering voice, trying to still her fingers in vain. 

"Admiral Kane was my dear husband's tenant at the time. There were _certainly_ no disappointments in love—" Abby said firmly, then cut herself off in embarrassment. Jackson took it as her cue to leave her in peace.

"I'm truly sorry, Abby," Jackson said. "Should I think of an excuse to offer to Mrs Sydney?"

"Please do."

With that, Jackson dashed away. When Abby was left in her solitude, she was finally able to collapse on the nearest chair to contemplate on the trial ahead of her.

One thing was certain; she would have to spend the next few months in the same circles as the man who utterly abhorred her, and any old partiality Abby could find in her heart towards him would not be enough to stand the sight of him either.

She first bowed her head down in exhaustion, then shot it up in a silent prayer up towards the ceiling. 

_Oh Jake, why of all the counties in England why did he had to end up just here? Darling, did you have something to do with this?_

There was no answer, only a gentle breeze of wind waving the curtains in the room.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning lady Indra Trigeda saddled her horse along with her friend Admiral Kane for their daily outing. They were northbound just as Indra had suspected from Kane's expression. Soon Arkadia House's silhouette rose in the distance as they rode through their neighbour's land. 

"Do we intend to call on Mr Jaha?" she deadpanned as they rode. She knew the bumbling fool hadn't made much of an impression on Kane.

Admiral offered no reply. He merely shifted his gaze further away in the distance, to the point where the hill started to slope down. He urged his horse to break into gallop, and Indra could not but follow him to where his ridiculous heart led them. 

She let out a frustrated sigh. She knew she ought to be thanking him instead of being constantly vexed by his antics. Ever since Indra had found herself in a rather unfortunate financial situation with her late husband's estate that had been too costly to keep, he had ridden to her family's rescue and found them a dwelling far more manageable while they gave the Mount Weather Hall for lease. She only wished she had known he had an agenda of his own in choosing Hertfordshire before she had invited him to stay with them over the hunting season.

Admiral followed the well-trodden path to the small valley where they could see a small cottage sitting snugly at the edge of the forest. It was a pretty little thing; ivy was climbing its worn walls and its immediate surroundings were brimming with evidence of mundane activities; laundry was drying on a clothesline on the backyard and there was a tiny easel set to face the forest. It was rather a comfortable-looking dwelling, if she happened to be an upper servant instead of a baronet's widow.

Kane was looking at the cottage with glassy eyes. They were observing it from a far enough distance that any person that happened to step outside of the door wouldn't notice them, but Kane still tensed when a young woman, probably a maid, emerged out. 

"That's where _she_ lives," he eventually whispered.

Indra's brow shot up. She had suspected that they were seeking out Kane's mysterious little Mrs Griffin ever since he had chosen an unfamiliar route that morning, but she hadn't expected her to be _that_ poor. She viewed the cottage now with whole new eyes. _Was that really a place for a gentleman's wife?_

"I don't understand it either," Marcus breathed out. "Jake was set to inherit a _fortune_."

"It is the fate of a widow who bears no sons," lady Trigeda said coolly. "That could've been me without Sir Lincoln, although all of my late husbands did have the sense to save a portion of their income for the sake of my security."

Marcus laid one more look at the cottage, his knuckles whitening as he clutched the reins tighter and tighter. As much as he had loved Jake, it was hard not to let anger seep in as he considered what a fool he had been. The man had been too confident in his inheritance to start saving, too optimistic in the prospect of a male heir while too busy to actually give her a son, he had been too...

_Too forgiving_. Marcus sighed as his grip on the reins loosened. It would be hypocritical to blame Jake for anything all the while Marcus had done what he had done. 

"Here. Now you've seen it with your own eyes. Shall we turn back?" Indra asked. The wind was picking up, and she had to wrap her shawl tighter around her. October would be soon here.

"Unless you want to call on her," she added after Kane remained silent, staring at the small cottage as if contained the answer to all of the mysteries of the universe. 

"No," Marcus said firmly. "That wouldn't be proper."

"Are you quite certain? I think you ought to go thank her. You wouldn't have been half as fortunate in life if she hadn't driven you away from Sussex. You would've never set a foot on a warship again and would still be a mere country curator's son."

From Kane' darkening countenance Indra sensed a new wave of bitterness flood him. She truly wished she could know more about what had happened between them, other than that Mrs Griffin had done wrong by him. However, Kane wouldn't be persuaded to open up, no matter how vigorously Indra had tried. 

"I have to admit that I don't understand why you are here. After everything, why do you even care?

"I don't care - no more than it's appropriate," Kane said, hesitating.  "I'm only here because of the promise I made to Jake. Before he passed away, he made me vow that his wife would be taken care of. I was obliged to visit her at some point."

"And you decided to do it now, eight years after Mr Griffin's death," Indra replied dryly.

Admiral looked slightly embarrassed at that notion but recovered quickly. "At least I'm doing my duty now. I shall do my best to improve her situation after I understand what's the wisest action to take. Jake would have wanted that."

It immediately sprang to Indra's mind what would be the simplest action for a wealthy, single gentleman to take in order to improve the situation of the woman he was so enthralled about, but she feared Kane would turn his horse around and ride away the moment she suggested it. So she offered a different solution. 

"I can't understand why you didn't just have your lawyer to write her a cheque every quarter-year. Then we could've picked a more handsome house in some other part of England. In Bath, perhaps. At least there fortune-hunting mothers wouldn't be tripping over themselves in order to shove their daughters towards my poor son." 

Indra suspected all those matchmakers wouldn't be nearly as interested in her son if they knew about the financial trouble they were are in, but she wouldn't risk that information reaching the ears of the _ton_.

At least Kane had been also forced into the company of his share of the admirers which would never fail to amuse Indra. 

"I don't think Jake would've appreciated if I neglected my duty to check up on her in person," he said stiffly.

Indra scoffed. She was getting exhausted of Kane cultivating Mr Griffin's name everywhere in order to excuse himself from being interested in Mrs Griffin's well-being. 

"Remind me again, was Jake the name of your late friend or was it what you call that member in your nether regions?"

After hearing that crass statement, Admiral Kane _did_ turn his horse around and ride away from her, but Indra had already expected it to happen at some point. 

There were only so many truths that she could keep to herself.

* * *

 Much to the chagrin of every family in the neighbourhood (and to Abby Griffin's immense relief), Sir Lincoln's family and Admiral Kane remained isolated from the rest of the society in their mansion house. After their initial visits to the callers, no dinner invitations were accepted nor sent; according to the rumours, the two gentlemen traveled so frequently between London and Hertfordshire there was no time left for engaging with the local families. 

Abby hoped it would stay that way. Either they were so dissatisfied with the quiet country life they only found amusement in their own company in London, or Admiral Kane was of the same sentiment as Abby; he had surely by now heard that she was one of his neighbours and would rather lock himself up in Polis Park rather than run into her. 

Abby reprimanded herself for thinking that way for what had to be the hundredth time that day. His actions most likely had little to do with her. He might be only conducting whatever business he had in Hertfordshire, taking absolutely no heed of her. She could only wish she was able to be that indifferent. 

The more days passed, the more agitated she grew about knowing that he was so near. Even the sound of his name made her almost jump to the ceiling as was the case that morning.

"Raven and I are going to walk to TonDC," Clarke explained while tying her bonnet. "Admiral Kane told Raven's father he might visit the town today and I'm dying to see him! Raven said that he had a  dark blue naval uniform. I have never seen one before."

After recovering from her initial shock, Abby spoke up. "Why are you so keen on meeting him? Wouldn't you rather stay home and help me in the garden?"

"Mama, I've not seen a new face for months. Even if he's a bore like Felicity told me, I'd rather crawl through a field of thistles to meet him than spend another day in our garden!" 

After saying all that out loud and seeing her mother's hurt expression, Clarke reconsidered her words. "I mean no offense, mama. Only... you have to understand, sir Lincoln might be also there and I wish to be introduced to him."

The last words looked difficult for her to choke out as Abby knew her daughter hated the vulnerability of admitting a plan of that sort. The fact that she was more than willing to consider making Sir Lincoln's acquaintance despite her vows of spinsterhood had to embarrass her to a small degree. Oh, how Abby wished she didn't need to be embarrassed! 

"Who knows, maybe he'll offer me marriage on the spot," Clarke joked as if she had read Abby's mind.

"You know you don't have to go," Abby said quietly.

Clarke's expression softened at that. She gave her mother a kiss on the cheek and smiled at her wistfully. "I really do."

She wished to unburden her mother before she grew too old, that much Abby could guess. Clarke was too quick of mind not to be aware of their situation, and it was breaking Abby's heart. 

She watched her daughter walk away with slumped shoulders, feeling bitterness that she had assiduously tried to keep buried all these years. If only Jake had not been so reckless to travel to West Indies...

It was futile. Thinking about her late husband only made her heart ache and did little to change the order of things now. The only thing could do now was to engage herself in something useful to chase away the dark thoughts. But Miss Jackson was out with the washerwoman and Mrs Byrne had a day off so Abby couldn't go offer help to them, and the thought of sitting down to do embroidery or reading in the dim loneliness of their sitting room was too harrowing to her. She decided to do something she hadn't dared to do for the longest time; she would take a walk in the woods.

Because the forest of Mr Jaha bordered the grounds of Polis Park, there was a real possibility of accidentally venturing into the territory of her new neighbours and encountering Admiral Kane. But the danger was now gone since according to Clarke he was in the town, being pestered by the locals.

_Poor Marcus_ , Abby thought, a sad smile flickering on her lips. _You were always so nervous around new people_.

_Admiral Kane_ , she corrected in her head once again for propriety's sake. 

Although true propriety would be not thinking about him all. 

* * *

She had truly missed the mounds and crooks of Mr Jaha's forest. No other place in the world could give her the joy and peace of mind as her daily walks here. She hated herself for letting the looming presence of Polis Park affect her so. She was fairly certain she hadn't even come close to their grounds, nor did the gentlemen seem to have any interest in exploring their surroundings. Most people spending a considerable amount in London did not enjoy life's quieter pleasures such as walking in the woods.

Just as she closed her eyes to observe the song of the birds, she heard a sound quite out of place. She could hear faint yapping and barking in the distance which made her furrow her brow in confusion, eyes still pinched shut. _Was she hearing dogs?_

The following gunshot made her eys fly open. 

_Sir Lincoln was hunting._

She did not think Mr Jaha was the source of the sound as she knew the man had no interest in a sport he was extraordinarily bad at. No, the sounds must come from her new neighbour. He had the right as one of the rentees to hunt the game on their property, and Abby must have wandered close enough to witness this.

There was a slight swell of worry in her stomach at the thought of being so close to the sport. However, Admiral Kane was not with him so Abby should only be concerned about Sir Lincoln mistaking her for a fox. As the sounds were still coming from far away, Abby leisurely continued walking, secretly hoping to run into him. She couldn't help to be a little curious of Sir Lincoln as Mrs Sydney's descriptions rarely revealed anything but superficial details. Abby rather wished to know everyone's true character. She hoped him to be of agreeable, gentle disposition. 

Her pondering was interrupted by a gunshot. Not even half of a second later it was followed by another, louder one, and Abby's heart shrank in half.

_There were two rifles. Two rifles for two gentlemen_. 

As she realised Admiral Kane might not be visiting the town after all, she immediately turned back, but the barking was starting to become distinct enough for Abby to fear she had been walking straight towards them. The thought of running into Admiral Kane like this as if she had meant to seek him out was mortifying above all. She'd rather get hit by Sir Lincoln's stray bullet than face him right now, if ever.

As she heard more startling gunshots, she began running away in the most unladylike-fashion. Any outside observer would have believed her to be afraid of arms beyond reason, but the truth was far more agonising than that. Fortunately, there were no outside observers since she didn't care how ridiculous she looked skipping and dashing in the forest in her walking dress. Her only intention was to get back to Mr Jaha's pastures as she swiftly as she could. 

Her plan was exceedingly successful until the very moment her shoe got caught up in some shrubbery. She stumbled, but regained her balance almost immediately, so strong was her instinct to flee. But as she tried to take another step, she found herself unable to do so. Her foot was thoroughly stuck in thorns of the shrub.

Her attempts to try to wrench herself free were met with immense pain. The thorns dug into her skin and tore it open the more she moved, and she had to stop in order not injure herself more (although she did consider whether a leg wound was preferable to encountering the two gentlemen). 

Fortunately, the sounds were moving farther away now, and it was likely she wouldn't even see them. Unfortunately, she was not able to release herself without help.

Tears of humiliation springing into her eyes, she opened her mouth in a desperate plea. "Help!"

It did not take long before her cries were heard. The sounds of the rifles subsided and the barks of the dogs started to get closer along with footsteps.

Abby both internally sighed with relief and blinked in wonder as the first gentleman came into view. The man with a concerned expression that came into view was undoubtedly Sir Lincoln. He was as handsome as everyone had said although they had remarked more on his height and posture. Abby rather took notice of his kind eyes.

"Madam, are you alright? Were you hit?"

Before Abby could answer, a second person followed after Sir Lincoln. It was not a man which relieved but also greatly puzzled Abby. Sir Lincoln's companion was a young, handsome woman. There was something regal about her features, and it immediately sprang to Abby's mind that this had to be Miss Alexandra Woods. She was wearing a riding dress which impressed Abby; she had not encountered one woman in this parish that could ride except for herself back in the day she still owned horses. But what impressed her the most was the rifle Miss Woods was not even trying to hide behind her back. It was unheard-of for woman to go hunting and her utter lack of shame about it made Abby immediately take a liking to her.

After processing the sight properly, she almost cried out of relief as she understood that against all odds, Miss Woods had been the second rifleman. The danger had been averted.

"I'm- I'm stuck," she offered as the explanation for predicament and burst into laughter.

"I can see that," Sir Lincoln said, smiling shyly. Miss Woods quirked her brow in amusement.

Miss Woods proceeded in kneeling down to assess the situation of Abby's leg as Sir Lincoln found himself unable to do so. The man seemed flustered to even consider approaching the hemline of a woman he was not related to. Abby already liked him.

"It does not look too bad. If you could, brother, cut those thorns from around her foot and free her," Miss Woods said.

Her request fell on deaf ears as Sir Lincoln was too eager to make Abby's acquaintance to realise to help her. "I don't believe we have been introduced before. It is surprising since it seems like I have met every single person in this parish by now."

Abby smiled. "You must be Sir Lincoln."

"Yes, indeed," Lincoln said, giving her a little bow. "That is my sister Alexandra."

Abby attempted to do a curtsy which failed miserably, causing both of the hunters to let out a good-humoured laugh. Abby already felt like she had befriended them and was suddenly grateful for her embarrassing little flight. She would have hated to make their acquaintance in a stiff 10-minute meeting in the library as usually was the case when visiting new families. 

"I think I also know who you are. You must be Mrs Griffin. We have heard a lot about you and your daughter."

"You have?" Abby asked. She couldn't believe Mrs Sydney had spared a good word about her. Perhaps others had praised Clarke, at least. 

"From a really close source-" Miss Woods tried to say with a twinkle in her eye, but Sir Lincoln placed a warning hand on her shoulder in order to silence her. He swiftly changed the topic. 

"You are our closest neighbour as far as I know. It's truly a shame we have not met yet," Mr Lincoln continued. "You live in the Arkadia House, right?"

"Oh no, no," Abby said, blushing. "Mr Jaha owns that house and the grounds surrounding it. I'm only his tenant. I rent a cottage on the slope near the road. I doubt you've marked on it, it's just a small thing."

"Ah yes, that rustic little wonder! I- I've always been envious of those beautiful country cottages," Mr Lincoln said, a little embarrassed his own assumption. If Miss Woods had not immediately spoken up, Abby feared quite an uncomfortable silence could've threatened to fall upon them.

"My mother and Admiral Kane rode by the house only yesterday and I do remember her telling me how much she had admired it. It has its own little charm, don't you say, Admiral?"

There was a brief moment of silence, just long enough for Abby to process that blood-curdling sentence, until _his_  hoarse voice came from behind Abby. 

"It disappoints me that you have yet to help Mrs Griffin, Lincoln."

A series of quick realisations rushed through Abby's head. Firstly, she laid a look on Sir Lincoln, and remarked a little too late that he didn't have a rifle; only miss Woods had one. Secondly, the true second rifleman had been standing a mere few feet behind Abby as evidenced by his tall shadow falling to her side. _He_ had undoubtedly heard every word of their discussion. _He_  had heard her laugh and kid around with Sir Lincoln and Miss Woods like she was only 19 again. A scorching heat surged to her cheeks.

Abby couldn't look at _him_. She kept her head held up high as _he_ rounded her, settling himself right in front of her. In silence, _he_ lowered himself down and she could scarcely breathe.

While Abby's face was flaming, he started cutting down the thorns around her leg with a small knife. The procedure seemed to take forever even if it was a job of only a few seconds. She was agonisingly aware of how close he was, his fingertips hovering just a few inches from her calves. If he had even accidentally brushed her bare skin, Abby would've combusted. 

But he didn't. He worked meticulously and with uttermost care, not even brushing her clothing. When the deed was done, he looked up at the same time Abby happened to look down, and for a moment their gazes met.

However, even one second of gazing into his dark eyes was too much for Abby, and she turned her face away in mortification. Her head felt faint, her stomach was in knots, and she was faintly aware of her knees wavering all because  _he_  was there after 20 years, staring at her with his heavy gaze like it was only yesterday. 

It would be a lie to say that he had not changed; there were deep furrows in his forehead which hadn't certainly been there before. There were crinkles in the corners of his eyes and mouth, and his skin was weather-worn and slightly tanned from his seafaring career. He had a beard just as Mrs Sydney had revealed; it was peppered with grey and dark patches. It was a curious sight, and Abby had felt the need to run her fingers along it. God's mercy she hadn't. 

His dark hair and the lock falling to his forehead were familiar. His eyes were the also the same, but their expression betrayed weariness and hard experiences he had garnered these past two decades. What wounded Abby, however, was the bitter tight line of his mouth and his refusal to even accidentally touch her.

_He still resented her._

He rose, not sparing her one more look. "There are only shallow cuts on your leg. I do not believe you need an apothecary."

"Thank you," Abby said, looking down. 

After observing the exchange with mild curiosity, Sir Lincoln spoke up, apparently in order to introduce her. "Kane, this is-" 

"We've been acquainted," he said curtly before Lincoln could even finish.

If only the earth could swallow Abby up now and relieve her of this agony.

"Oh right," Lincoln said, sensing the tense atmosphere. He turned to Abby with an unsure smile on his lips. "My deepest apologies, again, for not assisting you immediately."

"You were always a bit slow in the head, brother," Miss Woods dryly remarked.

Abby wished she could be able to engage in the playful conversation, but she was far too aware of _his_ presence. He seemed to be straining his neck muscles in his pursuit to avoid looking at her. Abby could hardly blame him; her own gaze must have been fixed on her feet for some time now.

"May we at least assist you home?" Miss Woods inquired.

Abby tried putting weight on her foot and as the action produced no grimace, she offered her answer. "Thank you, but I'm good to return home by myself. As you know, the Arkadia cottage is as near as can be."

That finally made him speak up.

"You live in a cottage," he stated, almost as if it was a question. 

While it was a far more honest reaction to the size of her dwelling compared to the awkward praises of Sir Lincoln and Miss Woods, there was something in his tone she did not like. There was a mix of haughtiness and contempt in it Abby couldn't help but hear. It made her blood boil. She lifted her chin, drawing herself up to her full length and for the first time, properly faced him.

"Arkadia Cottage has been my lovely home for eight years now. If you had chosen to write to me, I would've been more than glad to give you a tour."

Admiral Kane turned his face away at the venom dripping from her voice, and Abby immediately regretted her words. If she had been him, she wouldn't have visited either. Nor wanted anything to do with her.

Choosing to remain willfully ignorant of the harsh tone of their conversation, Lincoln tried to make them part in a more cheerful manner. 

"I do hope you and Clarke attend the ball next week. All of us shall be there! I'd love to make your daughter's acquaintance."

Some concerns flashed through Abby's mind as she remembered the public ball set to be held in the assembly room next week. Even though Clarke had been looking forward to it for weeks now, Abby still didn't know from where they'd get a carriage to transport them, or how she'd get a new dress for her daughter. Nevertheless, she offered him a smile. 

"We shall see there."

They let her go without further incidents, although Abby could sense Admiral Kane's eyes boring into the back of her head the whole time she was walking away.

Only when she was out of their sight, could she finally breathe. The worst was over, and she was still standing and living.

She closed her left hand into a fist and clutched her ring against her chest, feeling her previous agitation turn into anger. She understood now how much of an amusing twist of fate it was that their positions had been so reversed; poor country curator's son turned into a wealthy admiral while the mistress of a great estate was reduced to an impoverished widow. But it didn't give Kane right to look down on her now, no matter how bitter he still might be. 

Abby found comfort in the fact that he would likely avoid the next week's ball like a plague. _He had always been awkward at balls_ , she remembered with some wistfulness.

If they were both even more fortunate, this would be the last time they met. She couldn't imagine him wanting to stay after seeing her. 

At least, she wouldn't want to stay if Kane _did_. 


	3. Chapter 3

The closer the date of the ball came, the more Abby felt like it was _her_ first debut rather than Clarke's. She regularly woke up in the middle of the night to stomach aches and proceeded to work on her daughter's dress merely to make absolutely sure that it would be ready for the grand evening. It was one of her old ones and didn't have the most fashionable of models, but it would suit Clarke well with its lower waistline. Mrs Sydney, on the other hand, was taking her nieces to London to get their gowns tailored for them according to the latest fashion and had offered to bring Abby a new roll of cloth, but she had refused. Mrs Sydney had already arranged for a chaise to come pick them up and Abby's pride didn't allow her to accept any more charity from her. Besides, she couldn't guarantee Mrs Sydney wouldn't bring her the ugliest piece of fabric she could find in all of London in order to prevent Clarke from outshining her nieces. 

The morning of the ball Abby was so at edge Jackson had to push her out of the door so that she could help Clarke scrub herself clean in peace. 

Agitated, Abby gave very little attention to her own appearance. Only at the very last moment did she allow Jackson to put papers in her hair and prepare an old cream-coloured gown for her. 

"Breathe, Abby," Jackson instructed her. "Clarke has been to many balls before."

_Small balls with no gentlemen like Sir Lincoln_ , Abby thought but refrained from saying it out loud. "I know. She must be irritated with my fussing."

"A little," Jackson smiled, arranging Abby's hair so that curled tendrils fell about her temples, framing her face. "You look beautiful."

"What I look like hardly matters," she huffed. There would be _no one_ at the ball who would take heed of her appearance. She would feel perfectly comfortable blending into the background if it gave Clarke all the possible attention.

"Admiral Kane won't be there?"

Confused about why Jackson would bring him up now, Abby vigorously shook her head. "I'm sure of it."

Miss Jackson had a puzzling look in her eyes, and for a moment Abby thought she would remark something, but then Clarke stormed into the room. "Mama, have you seen my fan?"

Abby immediately scampered up at the lovely sight of her daughter. Her hair was elegantly coifed atop her head with a flowery headpiece fastened through her curls. At that moment, Abby's pale blue gown made her look more enchanting than any tailored dress from London could've managed, and it reminded her of the night she met Jake so much that her heart swelled in her chest. 

"You look so beautiful, my love," she said, walking up to her to wrap her up in her tight embrace. Abby proceeded in squeezing Clarke so hard in her arms the poor girl had to softly beat her fists against her chest so that she could get free. "Mama!" 

She only let go because she was afraid that she would tousle Clarke's carefully arranged hair, but kept her hands still on her shoulders. "My little girl. Papa would-"

"-fuss over me less," Clarke filled in, gently rolling her eyes. 

Clarke's papa would have fussed over her just as much, and Abby knew it. She had to retreat with an excuse to fetch Clarke's fan in order not to let the tears brimming in her eyes show, leaving her daughter in Jackson's care. 

Times like this she missed Jake so much her heart couldn't bear it. Even thinking about him fondly hurt too much, and Kane's looming presence didn't make the longing and regret any easier. Abby wondered if some almighty power had sent him to punish her for her past mistakes.

As if she hadn't already repented enough.

* * *

After dinner when the sky had started to slowly darken, they arrived at the Assembly Hall with Mrs Sydney's little chaise, followed soon by her own grand barouche. As soon as Abby had stepped out of the vehicle and Clarke had run to her friends, Mrs Sydney captured her in the crook of her arm. Abby could not but accept it as the price of the ride to the ball seemed to be to play the role of a misfortunate widow Mrs Sydney had taken under her wing in all of her kindness. Abby sighed as she spotted the length of the candlesticks as they passed through the hall. They would be burning for eight hours by her estimation.

This would be a  _long_ night.

Almost immediately after becoming a widow Abby had discovered that balls were little fun for other than young people, and she no longer had even Jake to keep her company and dance with (if he wasn't actually too busy to attend one). Now her options were either keeping close to Mrs Sydney and playing cards for the whole night, or the more appealing option: watching her daughter enjoy herself. 

However, that would mean being constantly on alert for Mr Jaha. She would have to avoid him for at least the first three hours so that she could feign fatigue if he happened to ask her to dance later which was, unfortunately, a real danger. Ball after ball, Mr Jaha continued to be blissfully unaware of how many eyebrows it would raise if she would be seeing dancing with her landlord. She was mostly afraid of how those rumours would affect Clarke. She wouldn't allow even the tiniest taint to her daughter's reputation, especially not now when the security of her future was at stake. 

The first hour passed surprisingly quickly as Abby idly wandered about the hall, keeping out of Mr Jaha's way when she realised that she had successfully shaken Mrs Sydney off. It was a suspiciously rare occurrence. This made her finally mark on Sir Lincoln's tardiness and wonder whether he was already there. If Mrs Sydney had gotten a whiff of his arrival, it would be no surprise if she chose to abandon Abby at that very moment. Deciding to enjoy some peace and quiet while it lasted, she stepped into the ballroom to find Clarke just as the doors opened to let the new guests in.

The lively conversations halted, and the dancers stilled as Sir Lincoln's party entered the room. The young man was his own amiable self, wearing a handsome blue jacket while his stepsister was the picture of elegance; she had a simple but beautiful pale green gown that brought out the intelligent spark in her eyes. Abby was pleased to see daughter watching the newcomers with great appreciation. It certainly was a promising sign that Clarke seemed to find Sir Lincoln attractive. 

Lady Trigeda entered the hall next. She had to be one of the most remarkable women Abby had ever seen with her height, her emerald gown, the matching feather attached to the dark coils of her hair, and the sheer grace of her every movement. Even if she looked slightly uninterested in her surroundings, Abby had no doubt in mind she had made a lasting impression on everyone in the room, and she couldn't help but smile as lady Trigeda dotingly followed after her offspring.

However, the last member of the party caused the corners of her mouth to sink rapidly.

Admiral Kane walked in next, and Abby suddenly found herself in a very vulnerable position. As she had emerged out of the other room, she had been left standing in the open doorway, leaving her in the clear view of Sir Lincoln's party as if she had meant to make a grand entrance solely for them. The whole coincidence was mortifying.

It didn't take even a second before Kane's dark eyes flashed to hers. He was wearing his blue naval uniform, and the sight rendered Abby briefly unable to make her feet work again in order to hide in the crowd.

No such luck. Sir Lincoln was already walking towards her with a broad smile on his face. "Mrs Griffin!"

_Why is he here?_ her mind kept screaming. It took a moment before she was able to wrench her eyes away from Kane's and greet Sir Lincoln. Abby offered him a curtsy, and the gentleman reciprocated with a bow. Then Kane was already by his side, and she had to look up to him. She scarcely reached his jaw in height, but still, she decided she would not flinch, nor waver as she spoke to him.

"Admiral Kane."

"Madam," he acknowledged with a colourless voice.

There were a curtsy and a bow, and then it was over. Kane exchanged no further words with her. He had already completed his cordial duty of greeting her and was now walking away with lady Trigeda, leaving Abby to converse with Sir Lincoln and Miss Woods. "I'm glad you came," she breathed out to Sir Lincoln, her eyes still fixed on Kane's back and her thoughts on his behaviour.

She realised that she was only a _madam_ to him now, someone you would offer a quick bow to and nothing more. She could live with that. She _had to_ live with that.

"We wouldn't have missed making a proper acquaintance with you and your daughter for the world," Sir Lincoln responded, although Abby could hardly hear his words. Lincoln's lips kept moving and moving as Abby noted Kane seemed to be standing awfully close to Lady Trigeda.

She gulped.  _Good for him._

"But where is she now?" Lincoln asked.

That made her snap back to reality, and Abby discreetly waved her daughter over. Fortunately, the girl was smart enough rush to her side without any hesitation as Mrs Sydney and her nieces were left gaping at her. As she arrived, Clarke shot Abby a questioning look at how she could already be acquainted with Sir Lincoln, but Abby hoped her reassuring smile would be enough of a promise for an explanation later. 

Sir Lincoln smiled as she saw her for the first time while Miss Woods' brow rose in interest. Abby hoped it to be a good sign. 

"Sir Lincoln, may I present you my daughter."

"Charmed," Sir Lincoln said, bringing her gloved knuckles to his lips. The corner of Clarke's mouth quirked in delight at the gesture, and her smile grew even wider when he immediately brought up her favourite subject. "I have heard from everyone you to be the most talented artist in the whole parish. I happen to draw myself too."

"Oh, really?"

Abby tried to judge whether there was already attraction between the two, but she didn't spot anything more particular than Sir Lincoln's usual gallantry and Clarke's easiness when it came to forming new friendships. It didn't stop Sir Lincoln, however, from immediately making the following offer.

"Perhaps we can discuss over the next set of dances?"

"It- it would be my pleasure," Clarke said, a little taken aback. 

Abby had to fight every muscle in her body in order not to smile as they walked away together, but it comforted her that Miss Woods seemed to have the exact same problem.

"I'm glad my brother had the sense to ask her to dance with him first since no other girl here could match her in beauty," she said, looking at Clarke go.

Abby was pleasantly surprised at the compliment as she now only realised that this was truly Sir Lincoln's first dance of the night. Usually, the honour was reserved for the daughter in the most influential family of the parish. That made Abby seek out Mrs Sydney's face in the crowd. 

Mrs Sydney looked very much like she was about to snap her fan in half as she watched Sir Lincoln lead Clarke into a minuet. Abby wondered if this was great enough offence for her to pettily deny them a ride back home, but Mrs Sydney would likely refrain from that for the sake of her charitable reputation. However, Abby believed the Griffins could certainly not expect any lent chaises in the future.

* * *

Sir Lincoln danced the next two dances with Miss Vie, then Miss McIntyre and Miss Fox. The fifth pair of dances were reserved for Clarke again which was a pleasant surprise for everyone. Callie rushed to talk about it with Abby as soon as she got the chance.

"Such an honour!"

"I know. I can't expect him to ask her the third time as that would cause too many tongues to wag, but two half-an-hours with Clarke is more than I could've ever hoped."

Sir Lincoln had now danced two sets with Clarke which was more than the time spent with the other girls combined, and she was currently engaged in a seemingly enthralling conversation with Miss Woods which indicated approval of the rest of the family. 

"Miss Alexandra looks quite enchanted with her. She may already think of her as a sister. Shall I wish Clarke joy by the end of the hunting season?" Callie teased.

"Hush! Sir Lincoln and Clarke hardly even know each other, and I won't encourage a match which doesn't make Clarke perfectly happy and comfortable whether his whole family approves or not."

"I'm not sure of the whole family," Callie said, laying a side-eye toward the other end of the room. Lady Trigeda and Admiral Kane were standing by the wall, observing the ball as if the crowd they were surrounded by a very unpleasant smell. The people around them were becoming aware of this distaste and forming not-so-flattering opinions of them as well as Abby could see from their expressions. It was a quite a turn from the excitement the prospect of a wealthy admiral had roused in the church some weeks ago. 

"Some people are too proud for their own good. I have not seen Admiral dance this whole evening even though there are so few gentlemen compared to the number of ladies," Callie continued.

At first, Abby considered defending the Admiral by mentioning his age and leg wound, but then she remembered Kane's little snipe at her cottage. "It's such a shame if wealth can corrupt a man like the Admiral," she eventually said.

"He wasn't always like that?"

"He was a good man," Abby said quietly, then decided to occupy herself in some way before Callie could persuade to reveal more information about their past. "I'm going to see if Mrs Sydney is feeling well. Last time I saw her she looked rather red at the way Admiral snubbed Miss McIntyre."

"I wish you good luck in that endeavour."

Abby wove her way through the crowd to the place she had last seen Mrs Sydney but couldn't immediately see her. Instead, she was pushed to the vicinity of the wall Admiral and Lady Trigeda were standing by. As she caught some words of their conversation, she couldn't help but hide about the same corner to determine if they were as displeased with the "lowly" company as everyone seemed to think. However, as she settled against the wall to listen, she heard a part of a much more unexpected conversation.

"Go dance," lady Trigeda urged.

"No."

"Go dance."

"I shan't."

"Everyone will think ill of you otherwise."

"They already do, and I don't care for their opinion."

"Why would you even attend if you knew you were expected to dance? You should've stayed in the manor."

Kane paused, seemingly thinking carefully about his next reply. "My leg-"

"Is not an excuse. You can walk perfectly fine without a cane if the weather allows, and I doubt would no one would consider some slow country dance a risk to your health. Now, go dance with someone before you bring disgrace to our whole party."

He sighed. "Shall you dance with me, then?"

"I'd rather not exert myself in that manner, and as a lady, I have the right not to dance." 

"That seems highly unfair."

"Again, you didn't have to come. You may not ask Alexandra either. I'd rather see you walk up to some other woman you find agreeable and ask her for the next two dances. Would that be such a hardship?"

"Yes, it would," Kane grunted. his eyes raking over the ladies in the room. "There is no one I know well enough-"

"Except for _your_ Abby."

_Your Abby_. She flushed crimson at the blunt expression and would've already escaped from hearing anything more inappropriate if the next words hadn't been so captivating to her attention.

"Please refrain from calling her that," Admiral said with a chilling voice.

"I shall if you dance one set with her. It would be only polite to reacquaint yourself after 20 years."

"I already _did_ talk to her last week."

"Hmm. And how was she?"

"So altered I should not have known her again."

Abby found herself at a loss of breath at the insult. The sentence cut deep, so deep that anger started seeping into her veins from a particular reopened wound.  _So that's what you think of my aged appearance, Kane._

She tossed her head back and stepped into their view with her chin held up high, intending to let them both know exactly how much she had heard from their conversation. She could sense Kane _'s_ gaze as he noticed her and felt it linger on her back while she walked out of the room as gracefully as she could. The only indication of the fact that Admiral had realised his error was the hissed response from lady Trigeda Abby could just and just hear: 

" _Well_ done, Kane."

* * *

"What a pompous, arrogant, conceited arse!" Abby ranted at Callie in the security of the nearest vacant corner. "I'd like to see him bear a child and age 20 years while retaining his looks. And he has _not_ retained his looks either, may I add."

That was not Abby's true opinion, but Callie didn't need to know that. 

"Calm yourself, my dear," Callie said, lowering her voice. "Are you certain he meant it as an insult?"

Abby had told her closest friend in Hertfordshire enough for her to know that Kane had been nothing but amiable to Abby during the brief period of time they had been in Sussex together. It was reasonable for Callie to be therefore puzzled about his change of attitude toward her even if the Admiral now seemed to have raised himself above most others. But Callie did _not_ know the whole story.

"Yes. It wouldn't come as a surprise if he no longer cared for me at all-"  Abby cut herself off as she felt her temper rising again and covered her flushed cheeks with her hands. "Why is he even here?"

"Out of politeness to the local society, I presume-"

"No, I want to know why he came to Hertfordshire in the first place. It would have been easier for us both if he had stayed away."

Callie laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Whatever he is here for, I know he won't stay for too long. He has a house both in Derbyshire and London, and there's _nothing_ for him here."

"I do hope so."

Callie had to leave Abby to dwell on these thoughts by herself as the midnight supper was called; with her higher status, she would have to enter the dining hall before Abby. Mrs Sydney gleefully rose from her seat to claim the lead, only for her face to fall as she realised she was in the presence of an even higher-ranking woman. As the widow of a baronet, lady Trigeda would go first into the dining salon and the ladies of lesser birth would follow after her. Judging by the utter horror on Mrs Sydney's face as she witnessed lady Trigeda preceding her, Abby wondered whether she had had nightmares of this exact occurrence before. Perhaps some nights she woke up in cold sweat after envisioning someone marrying higher than her and forever taking her place as the most important woman of the parish. 

_Perhaps someone like Clarke_ , Abby couldn't help but think. 

Abby meekly followed after the other women, not bothering to cut in line in order to seem more important. However, she soon wished that she had done so as she discovered that she'd be seated near Admiral Kane for the supper. Even as a wealthy naval officer, he ranked low because of his humble background.

The only person separating their seats was Miss Reyes. Even though the girl was far too slender to obscure the oppressing sight of Kane sitting so close to her, Abby was deeply grateful for the girl's liveliness; she fully occupied his attention so that Abby would be safe from the cold, agonising silence that would fall upon them if she was solely responsible for engaging him in a conversation. She would have nothing to say to him, even if forced to face him, not after his harsh comment from earlier. 

_He would surely find younger and prettier women to entertain him if a woman this altered would fall short on words_ , she thought with contempt she made no effort to hide from her face. Admiral Kane wasn't able to meet her eyes, and she found some malicious pleasure in that.

"For what reason did you come to our lovely little parish?" Raven inquired from him. 

After a brief pause during which Kane seemed to consider his words, he answered: "Personal business." 

His reply was curt and rather impolite which undoubtedly didn't help to improve the community's already poor view of him. Abby didn't care. _Let everyone think as badly as him as they wanted._

Displeased with his answer, Raven cut right to the chase. "To find a wife?" 

Abby looked away in order not to see his expression, suddenly finding the wooden patterns of the table utterly fascinating.

"That is not what I had in plans, Miss Reyes, no."

"It's rarely what anyone of us has in plans," Mr Reyes chimed in with a cheerful tone. "I arrived in TonDC as a young officer and stayed for a woman. Twenty years later, I have never regretted my decision."

Admiral offered him a courteous but stiff smile at that. "I wish you every happiness."

Mr Reyes, always a little unable to read the room, persisted: "I must ask, why is it so that you still remain unmarried?"

There was a long, painful silence during which Abby considered leaving the room in the flimsiest of excuses. She'd rather jam a fork into her eye than participate in this conversation. 

Kane eventually did answer with a hollow voice: "There was never an opportunity for me to express my wishes to anyone within the rules of propriety."

"But was there still a woman-"

Callie, sitting nearby in the table adjacent to theirs, felt the need to intervene as both Abby and the Admiral looked like they were being boiled alive.

"I heard that you had your own flagship," she remarked. 

Admiral's posture relaxed at the question as he realised he had been blessed with a change of the topic. "That is correct. A beautiful frigate from the year 1804 onwards. She saw many great battles, the most difficult struggle probably being not sinking the first day under my command."

There were some amiable laughs at that, and Abby thought she saw a hint of a smile play across his lips. Irritatingly enough, the sight caused her stomach flip.

A catalogue of the seafaring ships of the year was soon fetched for everyone's entertainment. Admiral's ship was soon found in the list and vigorously pointed at in delight. "I named her Father's joy, as you can see from the catalogue," Kane continued. 

"You didn't follow the common practice of naming her after a woman?" Mr Sinclair asked, and Callie's hand immediately dashed to squeeze his as a silent warning as they broached the dangerous topic again. This time, however, Admiral remained unfazed, choosing to simply ignore the question. Raven leaned forward to whisper something to his father which made the man raise his brow and shoot Kane a sly look.  _Biblical name_ , Abby saw her murmur, but couldn't understand what for.

"Was Father's Joy one of the ships that participated in the battle of Trafalgar?" Raven asked. People around the table leaned forward after hearing the question. It was rare for someone not to be interested in such an interesting topic as violent tales of warfare. 

"Indeed. It was one of her first proper battles and the greatest of my life. Sometimes it feels like sheer luck we was able to gain victory unscathed."

At that, many sympathetic hands were laid atop Mrs Green's. Her late husband had been a Captain in that very battle and had sadly lost his life as his ship had sunk. This was swiftly conveyed to Admiral Kane who offered her his condolences.

"Do you happen to remember Exodus? That was the name of the ship," Mrs Green asked. 

At that, Kane grew suddenly so weary it looked like he had aged ten more years. After staying silent for a long, oppressing moment he began with a hoarse voice. "I do remember. It was not part of my fleet, but I knew the commanding Admiral. He was a good friend."

There was such heavy regret and sadness in his voice Abby couldn't help her fingers from curling around the material of her dress as a poor substitute for Marcus' hand. She turned her face away, trying to bring his harsh words back to her mind in order not let her heart soften too much for him.

Admiral drew in a shuddering breath. "I'm _so_ sorry for the fate of your husband. One of the 300 good men lost."

The atmosphere of the room was suddenly morbid. Everyone had expected him to recount an exciting tale, not remind everyone of the horrific losses of the war. 

"Yet you made it through," Mr Reyes attempted in order to lighten the mood.

"By sheer dumb luck, it feels. Had I been at wrong place at a wrong time would I be only a mention in a paragraph of the newspaper like them."

After uttering that sentence, Kane no longer wished to speak of his experiences and Abby found her appetite to be completely gone. 

* * *

 After the supper, Marcus ventured briefly outside to breathe in some fresh air. 

He was afraid that he had brought everyone's mood down, but not by choice. He simply lacked the ability to make himself more agreeable, especially when it came to navigating a heavy, personal topic like that, nor could he be at ease in a strange company. As Lady Trigeda would put it: Marcus always did find a way to make an arse out of himself. 

Marcus sighed. He was not as personable as Jake, however much he wished he would be. 

_Oh, Abby,_ he thought, then immediately chastised himself for referring to her with her Christian name. She was Mrs Griffin to him and would always remain so. The name Abigail was just as forbidden to him than entertaining the idea of her bearing any other surname than Griffin. 

He hadn't meant to hurt her with his words, only to ascertain lady Trigeda of his indifference. He _should_ be indifferent to her. Treating her with the same warmth that had used to be there would help his cause very little.

Perhaps he should just address a quarterly check to Mrs Griffin, return to Derbyshire, to _Octavia_ , and forget about all about her. He still hadn't crossed off that option as it was obvious she abhorred him. Still, she had looked awfully pale as he had recounted his how close he had come to death...

"Admiral Kane," came from behind him.

Marcus immediately turned around at the sound of _her_  voice and was faced with a small, fierce woman looking up at him crossed arms. He couldn't will a single greeting to fall from lips at the sight. He merely stared down at her speechlessly like a fool, the only concern flashing through his mind being the fact that the night air could be too cool for her uncovered shoulders.

As he remained silent, Mrs Griffin began. "I know we haven't had the best of starts-"

"I'm sorry."

" _Don't_. I merely wanted to say I'm glad you are well and still with us. There is _no_ use denying that I feel that way."

Her voice barely had the volume of the softest murmur, but still, Marcus heard the words as loud they had been whispered straight into his ear. Abby curtsied and then scampered away, her cheeks beautifully pink as if she had just revealed the most treacherous secret. As he watched her go, his heart grew so big and warm in his chest that he felt lighter than in a long time. 

The pleasant sensation made him so unaware of his surroundings that he bumped into a shorter gentleman and without apologising, continued absent-mindedly walking towards where Abby had disappeared.

The gentleman in question was so offended that he complained about the incident to everyone who had been at the ball. Their initial impressions of the man made the others readily echo the sentiment:

"Admiral Kane has to be the proudest, most morbid, disagreeable man the whole of Hertfordshire has ever had the misfortune to meet!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are not too annoyed that you have yet to discover what happened between Abby and Marcus all those years ago. Don't worry - each chapter gives you more puzzle pieces until the final reveal.

The ball came to a close only during the early hours of the next day. Everyone was fatigued from a whole night worth of dancing and white soup so the courtyard was filled with pale, weary people staggering to their carriages, either a hint of a smile or a slight frown playing across their features, depending on how successful their night had been.

Abby was a mix of emotions. Her head was aching, her heart filled with delight and worry for Clarke, but the most frustrating and inexplicable feeling was the butterflies dancing in her stomach. 

She was certain that the reason for them could not be Admiral Kane. He had all but insulted her during the night, had not exchanged one word with her even when they were seated close together and had proceeded to only stare at her for the rest of the night after their short conversation outdoors. 

But how often had those looks been sent in her direction and how long they had lasted! Abby had had to hide most of her face with a fan in order not to betray the blush on her cheeks while also being fully aware of the fact that he was only judging her appearance. 

As Abby was supporting droopy Clarke to their chaise, he seemed to have his eyes turned away from her for the first time in the past four hours. He was helping Miss Alexandra into their coach and as the girl was securely settled in her seat, he stopped to absent-mindedly run his fingers through his dark hair.

Abby couldn't help but stare. Mrs Sydney had been truthful when describing his build. Every inch of him did, indeed, command awe. Not only was he tall, his years at sea had made him stronger, even stronger than he had been 20 years ago at the time Abby had considered the peak of his physical prowess. She flushed again as Miss Reyes, standing by her family's carriage, shot her a curious look in the direction Abby had fixed her eyes on.

She climbed into the chaise after Clarke, unaware of the similar route Admiral's thoughts had taken as he spared one last glance at Abby before she disappointingly disappeared into the chaise. 

_Altered, yes,_ he thought.  _But for the better._

* * *

A few days later Miss Reyes called on them, and as soon as Miss Jackson had allowed her to enter she made a dart for Clarke. The young ladies undoubtedly wanted to gossip about the events of the ball, Abby thought and meant to give them some privacy to do so until Clarke, not much later, invited her to the conversation with great animation. 

"Mother, did you hear? A militia regiment will settle into TonDC and is to stay the whole winter!"

Raven immediately offered more expertise on the matter.

"The regiment is under the command of Colonel Pike and will arrive in few short weeks, on the 24th day to be exact. But truly, it's not much of a news after the arrival of Sir Lincoln's party," Miss Reyes said in order to contain Clarke's excitement, or perhaps her own. There was a special sparkle in her eyes today, and Abby suspected she could make the girl flare red with just a few further inquiries about how she knew the comings and goings of the regiment so well. Abby was already curious whether she might discover the sender of Miss Reyes' red ribbon letters during the following weeks. 

"Don't shy away, Miss Reyes. When I was your age I was just as excited about the prospect of seeing a well-fitted red uniforms flood the town," Abby teased. 

"I thought you might prefer a blue uniform," Raven shot right back, and Abby had to usher the young ladies to talk in the sitting room in order to hide her irritation at the comment. Miss Reyes was sometimes far too perceptive to Abby's liking. 

Not that there was anything to be perceptive about.

Not too long after Abby had left the girls to discuss the arrival of the officers, there was a footman at the door. He was startled to be received by no more than a maid to present his important message to, but Jackson merely scoffed at his stupefiedness and presented the note to Abby. Her relief was immense when she discovered the message had not come from Jaha (who did not spare his invitations for Griffins to dine with him) but instead, from Miss Woods. The letter was addressed to Clarke.

 

_My dear Friend,_

_I have found myself in the horrible danger of dying of boredom ever since I was deprived of your company after the ball. For the lack of any other gatherings I could invite myself over to see you again, I have come to ask for your uttermost compassion to dine with me and my mother tonight. My brother and Admiral have gone to London for urgent business, and you can just imagine the blight this wretchedly empty house casts on me!_

_Yours ever, Alexandra Woods_

 

Abby continued reading the letter, her face slowly falling. "Oh, it seems that Sir Lincoln will be dining out today."

Miss Reyes, suddenly appearing behind her back, snatched the letter from her hands and skimmed through it.

"That is not necessarily bad news. If Lincoln's family has taken such a liking to Clarke she has all the time in the world to secure him," she said after finishing reading the letter.

It was Clarke's turn to snatch the letter for herself. "Me and Sir Lincoln are only friends, thank you very much! And I'd like to read _my_ letter now."

Clarke read the message in silence, her features radiating more and more with each word. In the end, she folded it neatly and beamed like a sun at her mother. "May I call on her at once?"

Before answering, Abby laid a concerned look out of the window. The weather had been dreary all morning. "Are you certain? It looks like it might start raining at any moment and you'd have to walk there. I don't want you to fall ill, dear."

Clarke seemed to consider that as a real, frightening possibility until Miss Reyes waved her hand dismissively and expressed an opposite view. "A couple of clouds in the sky and you are all teetering in your boots! Even if it does rain, it will only last a short moment and brighten the day more so! Don't even consider declining the invitation for such a silly reason."

Clarke smiled at the encouragement, and Abby suspected her mind had already been made the moment she had read the letter.

"You know how fast I am, I'll be there before the first raindrop has fallen!" she said with a cheerful tone, already rushing upstairs to change her outfit, not leaving Abby time to protest. Raven laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Don't look so worried. This a prime opportunity for her. If it does rains, she has to stay there the whole day and might even encounter Sir Lincoln. Even better if she falls ill, then she could spend the whole week!"

Abby shot a sharp look at her. "Aren't you a matchmaker today."

"Old maids like me rarely have other amusements. You'll thank me once the engagement is announced," she smirked. 

"I'd just hate my only daughter to die in pursuit of securing Sir Lincoln," Abby said with sarcasm dripping from her voice. 

Raven sniggered at that. "Nobody dies of a trifling cold. Not anymore, at least." 

"Stop fretting, mama!" Clarke called out from upstairs, having heard their conversation. Abby let out a weary sigh as she realised she had lost.

Thus, Clarke set off on her journey to Polis Park with Miss Reyes accompanying her until the first fork in the road. However, not even a quarter-hour had passed before the downpour started, and Abby spent the following evening watching the window glass fill with more and more speckles of raindrops, a dark lump pressing at the bottom of her stomach. All the previous times Clarke had caught cold it had gone straight to her lungs, and many sleepless nights had been spent fearing the worst. This ought to be another one of those nights.

Only after she had received a second note from Miss Woods informing that Clarke would be staying the night there, could Abby venture into her bed and fall into an uneasy sleep. The next morning she was out of the bed as the first rays of sun grazed the thunderstorm-beaten ground and waited anxiously for another letter from Polis Park. She received it a few hours later:

 

_Dear Mother,_

_Sadly I find myself very ill this morning which is probaly due to getting wretchedly wet in the storm yesterday. I know I should've listened to you and I'm sorry. My friend will not have me return home until I'm better and sent for an apothecary yesterday - but don't be alarmed, there's only some fever, soreness of throat and pain in my head. Otherwise, everything is alright._

 

Before even finishing reading the last few words Abby was already securing a walking jacket around her shoulders.

"Where are you going, Abby?" Miss Jackson inquired after seeing her prepare for a swift departure.

"I have to visit Clarke at once. She is bed-ridden in Polis Park," she huffed, and muttered _thanks to dear Miss Reye_ s under her breath.

"The grounds are so muddy after the rainstorm you're hardly presentable once you arrive," Jackson warned.

"I know."

" _Admiral Kane_ might be there."

Abby snapped her eyes shut as she considered that frightening possibility, then shrugged it off as her mind returned to Clarke. "I'm _not_ frightened of him. I would still go see my daughter even if there were a dozen Admiral Kanes occupying Polis Park."

"A dozen Admiral Kanes? Mrs Sydney might just suffer a stroke at such glorious prospects for her nieces," Jackson said and managed to bring out the first smile from Abby in two days.

* * *

Admiral Kane and Sir Lincoln had returned from London early that morning, and upon their arrival, were immediately faced with the news that Miss Griffin was to stay at the mansion to recover from her fit of illness. Sir Lincoln was all sympathy and requested to see the young lady immediately while Admiral Kane had to brace himself before that cordial duty. He had never seen Miss Griffin before the ball and had not had the pleasure to be introduced to her there. He had only spotted the girl dancing a couple of times during the night but had turned his eyes away the second he noticed she was wearing one of Abby's old gowns.

Abby and Jake must have had her two years after his departure. He had a faint recollection of writing a polite, congratulative letter to Jake after receiving the news and, accordingly, drinking himself to a stupor. The prospect of finally meeting her was not the most comfortable of ideas so he withdrew himself from everyone at the excuse of travel weariness and visited her sickbed only later that morning.

Even though her head was aching and she was feverish, she still tried to smile at him and maintain a polite conversation. She reminded him of Jake so much he had to leave the room after a while in order to compose himself. He would not want to appear distraught in front of Lincoln and lady Trigeda. 

Downstairs he was faced with more worrying news. 

"I sent Clarke's letter to her mother," lady Trigeda said nonchalantly. "She ought to call on us later today."

"In that case, I shall go shoot game today at that time."

Lady Trigeda quirked her eyebrow. "You still cannot face her?"

"I _can_ face her. I'd just prefer not to."

"I thought no harm had been done. You told me you had an amiable conversation despite your idiotic remark."

"Amiable" was the word he had used even though Abby had only cordially expressed her delight that he had not ceased to live yet, and he had uttered only two words during the short exchange. He probably wouldn't be able to do better than that if he was to see her today.

He was saved from explaining himself when Lincoln came downstairs to join them.

"Where is Alexandra?" Lady Trigeda asked him.

"Lexa is upstairs, reading to Miss Griffin."

"Still? She has been there since early morning"

It was true. Miss Woods had sat quietly by her side even during Marcus' brief visit.

"She thought she'd need some cheering up before her mother gets here."

"Is she already on her way this early?" Marcus asked, his voice coming out as more hoarse than he would have liked. 

"Clarke suspected so. Why?"

"Then I shall prefer to spend my morning in the woods and join you for dinner later," Marcus said, rising from the table. 

"You may, but first you have to explain the same to my son you once told me. He looks quite confused about why you dislike Mrs Griffin so."

Lincoln looked at him questioningly, and Marcus couldn't help but sigh, support his weight on the back of the chair and try to be as brief as possible.

"We spent a substantial amount of time together when I was on my leave in Sussex. I have no fond memories of that period in my life."

"And?" Lady Trigeda prompted. Marcus shot her a frustrated look but thought of no other option but to continue. 

"Lincoln, you know already that I have not always been this wealthy. I was only a curator's son before I joined the ranks, but I did have the privilege to grow up with a man called Jacob Griffin."

"The late husband of Mrs Griffin?"

"Indeed. We were dear friends to each other before our lives took different turns due to the difference in our status. While I ventured to the sea, he made his career at law and had magnificent prospects, something I could've only dreamed of. Still, he always remembered me when I was on down my luck, particularly in the year 1794 when there was no vacancy for me aboard and I was left ashore. 

He arranged me to dwell on his grounds and pay for my own upkeep with steward's tasks."

Lincoln looked like he might protest but Marcus cut him off:

"I know Lincoln, it is no genteel profession, but Jake always made sure that people deemed me as high as they did him. And that brings me to Mrs Griffin: Spoiled, stubborn, influriating wife of his. Every day spent with her made me think fondly back to the nights when the raging storm almost sent my ship into the bottom of the sea. 

He had only married her recently and was worried his new wife would grow restless for he spent almost all of his time in London. Thus, my most important task was to make sure she didn't wander too far from the estate and get into trouble as he had described her as a bit of a wild soul. I only wish he would've told me that the whole truth. She sneaked away _constantly_ and many sleepless nights were spent thinking that the tomorrow would be the day she would lose her life by riding down a cliff or something just as reckless. 

She respected my duty over her as much as the dirt on the bottom of her shoes even when I— I helped her out a certain misfortune. At the end, we did not spar as much as in the beginning, but then I was commisioned to a ship again. And that was the last I saw of her."

Lincoln was now even more confused. "But why are you still resentful? Having to take care of her two decades ago can hardly warrant such a grudge."

"I will tell you no more than I told your mother. I made some unwise choices when it came to my conduct towards her, and then she made a decision that left me with no desire to see her ever again."

Lincoln nodded somberly, understanding that it was no use asking further questions. 

"Kane, Do at least finish your breakfast," Indra urged. "Mrs Griffin will not be here until dinner, I'm certain of it. The ground is too muddy for any sort of travel."

Right after she had uttered that, a footman entered the breakfast parlour.  "Mrs Griffin," he announced and retreated to the back in order to let the small woman step into the room. 

Abby had picked the fastest route to Polis Park which meant crossing over Mr Jaha's muddy fields and skipping over puddles as successfully as she could. In the end, her petticoat was six inches deep in mud, her hair ruffled from the wind and her face glowing from the activity and the prospect of seeing her daughter again. Indra had to admit she looked rather beautiful despire her scandalous condition.

Her complexion was supplemented by the warmth on her cheeks. She had no bonnet on and some windswept strands had come up to frame her elegant features. Otherwise, her hair flowed down her back as a wild river of brown, tangled curls. 

She was looking at Kane in a defiant way, Indra noticed immediately. It was as if she was daring him to judge her appearance. Indra turned her gaze at him in amusement.

At first glance, one could assume Kane was entirely indifferent to her as he did not even turn his head to look at her until the very last moment. But it wasn't left unnoticed by Indra that his fist clenched by his side as he took in the sight of Abby, and that his lips parted just slightly the longer he stared.

 "My daughter-" Mrs Griffin started.

"-Is upstairs," Kane finished curtly.

Mrs Griffin looked at him for a moment with her bright eyes before offering him a curtsy and following the footman to upstairs.

After she was out of sight Kane looked like could breathe again. His face was beet red, from anger or mortification, Indra did not know, but of one thing she was certain now.

It would take three months and 7 days to leave this place. 

One month for Kane to pull his head out of his arse, another month for a swift courtship, the third month for him to make his offer to Mrs Griffin, and finally, seven days to arrange the church ceremony. Three months and seven days, and they would be on their way to Bath.

That was what she was putting her hope on. 

* * *

Abby felt rather helpless as she looked at her sick daughter. Not because she was in such a poor shape, no, the apothecary had affirmed that her daughter was making a slow recovery. Instead, the fact that she was not truly needed troubled her. Clarke had been overjoyed to see her mother and wished her to stay at her bedside, but almost all of the comfort and amusement was provided by Miss Woods, rendering Abby useless.

She told Clarke of her travels in Europe, of the estate that they had left behind, of ridiculous suitors that she had rejected in order to make Clarke giggle — and that was only when she was not talking about art or her favorite novels. Abby was grateful for her but she wished Miss Alexandra would let her feel more useful in some way. The opportunity was finally presented to her when the young lady left to fetch more wet towels for Clarke, leaving Abby and her daughter alone.

"Now tell me how you are truly feeling."

"Everyone is so wonderful here. Sir Lincoln is the sweetest man in the whole of England and his mother, even though she might seem stern, took immediate notice of my fatigue and wouldn't heard of me leaving the bed. Lexa - no, Miss Woods-" Clarke let out a smile at her little slip. "I'm sorry, it already feels like we have been friends for years! She has been keeping me company the whole day even though the sun has shined so. It makes me dread the day I actually recover for I would have to part from her! Even Admiral Kane was pleasant — even thought he seemed so aloof at the ball."

"Really?" Abby asked carefully.

"Really. He said that I resembled father. I wasn't aware that they even knew each other!"

"He was a dear friend of your father."

"I wonder why I had never met him before-"

Before being able to finish that sentence, Clarke started coughing which meant the end of that discussion. Abby felt slightly guilty for being relieved. Miss Woods rushed back into the room but Abby was already pouring her daughter some drought. 

There was not much else she could do. After taking the drought Clarke fell asleep, and Miss Woods told Abby she could stay as long as it was necessary. She had not considered doing anything otherwise, but it was still an unnerving prospect to stay in the same house as Admiral Kane. 

She did have to go downstairs with Miss Woods eventually to dine with the rest of the family. Fortunately, Admiral Kane joined their party late just as the ladies were finishing their dishes and Abby had a good excuse to run back to Clarke before having to make up something to say to the Admiral.

As soon as she was out of the view, she became the talk of the table.

"What a spirited woman!" Miss Woods expressed. "I do like her immensely. I only wish I could run about the country in muddy dresses like her."

"I have forbidden it for a good reason, Alexandra. Remember, you're a proper lady."

"And Mrs Griffin is not?" Marcus asked sharply.

Lady Trigeda smiled slowly at that. "So soon we have hit you in a sore spot, Admiral. Would you say that her actions were the most exemplary today since you seem so partial to her?"

"I do not care for her and have told you so many times. To walk three miles here through a wet countryside alone is a regrettable sign of brazenness that still seems to be present even after all these years. However, I'm also aware that she has the will of a wild horse and would not have been persuaded to do any otherwise to see her daughter. All in all, she is still a _lady_ but undoubtedly the most difficult one in all of England."

"Have you nothing good to say about her?" Lincoln asked. "I think her character is the most delightful."

"And you cannot deny her to be an exceptionally handsome woman," Lady Trigeda said and proceeded to carefully observe his reaction. 

"She has beautiful eyes," Marcus admitted but wished it undone the very next second. 

Miss Woods and Sir Lincoln latched on that small remark like a pack of ravenous dogs. The long time they had been acquainted with the older gentleman they had never witnessed him being sweet on anyone; thus the following evening was spent teasing him mercilessly for multitude of years' worth. It made Marcus retreat to his study in order to save himself from all the unbearable suggestions of the ways Mrs Griffin's eyes had mesmerised him. 

However, he did have to return downstairs before nightfall in order to remain polite to his hosts. He heard some music and singing downstairs which he presumed to be a duet by Sir Lincoln and Miss Woods. When the words started to be discernible and Marcus distinguished the song to be _Black-eyed Susan_ , he stormed into the drawing room with fire in his veins.

"Stop that ruckus at once!" 

The music stopped and all eyes turned to him, but the most horrifyingly, the very pair owned by Mrs Griffin. She must have returned downstairs to watch them play while he had been up at the study. Speechless and embarrassed, Marcus watched Mrs Griffin knot her brow disapprovingly at his rudeness.

"We know you are not as animated admirer of music as us, but you needn't to express it that crassly!" Miss Woods said with mirth spilling from her eyes. 

"I apologize."

"And I accept. But you must allow us to finish this verse. We shall not finish a song mid-verse no matter how much you abhor it!"

Miss Woods quickly picked up the melody where she had halted the lively song began again, Sir Lincoln gleefully supplying the male voice.

“Oh Susan, Susan, lovely dear,  
My heart shall ever true remain.  
Let me kiss off that falling tear,  
We only part to meet again.  
Change as you list she wins, my heart shall be  
A faithful compass that still points to thee.

Heed not the landsmen when they try  
To tempt away thy constant mind.  
They tell thee, _sailors_ , when away,  
In every port a mistress find.  
Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so,  
For thou art present whereso'er I go."

"That was two verses," Marcus said gruffly, but the two only sniggered in response.  _Two grown adults!_ Marcus shot their mother a shaming look but the lady only focused innocently on her needlework. 

"Do you play pianoforte, Mrs Griffin?" Miss Woods asked.

"Not very well, I'm afraid."

"That doesn't matter as Admiral finds no enjoyment in pianofortes. You shall be perfect for—"

"You look tired, Miss Woods. Perhaps you ought to retire to bed already?" Marcus said curtly. 

Miss Woods feigned being wounded at the remark, then hooked her arm around Sir Lincoln's. "Come brother, let's relieve these bores of our far superior company."

Mrs Griffin looked startled at the playfulness of their conversation. Marcus supposed she had believed baronet's family to act polished and sophisticated at all times. Miss Woods and Sir Lincoln gave them an exaggerated set of a curtsy and a bow before finally leaving the room.

An uncomfortable silence fell upon the room as Mrs Griffin continued staring at him with her dark eyes. Marcus seated himself down to the table next to lady Trigeda, as far from her as possible. Lady Trigeda, however, immediately rose up as Marcus was settled. 

"I need to talk to the housekeeper. I'll be right back."

Marcus shot her a pleading look. _Don't leave me alone with her._

Lady Trigeda didn't meet his gaze, but Marcus could see a hint of a smile tug at the corner as she walked out of the room. Marcus immediately knew she wouldn't back for a while.

The atmosphere in the room changed for even worse. Suddenly every draw of breath sounded like thunder to his ears and every bat of _her_ lashes twisted Marcus' heart. No words were exchanged. Abby picked up the book from her lap and brought it up to obscure her face, probably in order to hide what she really thought about being left in his sole company. 

At first, Marcus thought about leaving the room, escaping into his quarters and trying not to think about her as he had furiously attempted these past few weeks. However, that would be the easy way out. Ignoring her would not help his cause and it was no use delaying the inevitable. He had come to Hertfordshire with the sole goal of talking to her and avoiding her — even though she was staying at the same house as him — was only foolish. 

"We should talk."

"There's nothing to talk about," she replied quietly. 

"Abby—"

Pause.

Both were briefly mortified of the slip of her Christian name until Abby spoke up again. "Please _don't_. Just because I told you I was glad you had not perished at sea doesn't mean we— we are friends again."

She was blushing now, and Marcus had to pretend not to notice in order to shield her from embarrassment.

"I don't wish to renew our friendship if that's what you are afraid of. In fact, we never have to see each other after I leave. However... I made a promise to Jake."

Mrs Griffin looked up at him, startled. Marcus took that as his cue to rise up and round the table in order to walk up to the sofa she was sitting on. When he was finally facing her, he knelt rather awkwardly to reach the level of her eyes. 

She had never looked more terrified.

Marcus clenched his eyes shut. "Don't look at me like that. I'm not offering you anything — only some financial assistance. Name the sum and I'll arrange you an annuity of that amount so you can live more comfortably"

At first, Abby looked confused, then her countenance darkened. 

"I promised Jake I would take care of you-"

"You are not my nursemaid anymore!" Mrs Griffin said, an angry flush on her cheeks. "I have absolutely _no need_ for your money."

Marcus had not expected that answer.

"Should I believe that the change of your status has completely escaped your attention?" He snapped. "You should not live this. That was never supposed to be your lot."

"I'm perfectly happy with my life, thank you very much," Abby said, tilting her chin up. "You might not believe so since wealth seems to have done you more harm than good, but it is the truth."

 _I'm still the same person_ , he wanted to say but refrained from doing so. "I acknowledge your view, but you _must_  be aware of the fact that your daughter needs better prospects in order to marry well."

That finally made Mrs Griffin fall silent. She looked down, offended at him for bringing up such a sensitive subject. Marcus wanted to grab her and convince her of that he _did_  understand. He had Octavia. He _should_ tell her about his daughter, but he couldn't find the words.

"I only wish her to be happy, and it doesn't matter who she marries," she eventually said. "Now, get up before a servant walks in and we will hear about the rumours of our engagement from a  _shopboy_ tomorrow.

Marcus wrenched himself up, frustration blurring his sensibilities. "Just take the money, I only came here because Jake didn't leave you a penny!"

A frosty silence filled the room. Marcus straightened his back and fixed his eyes on hers. He did not regret his words for they were true; he had forced himself to regain his warm regard for Jake after learning in how poor a position he had left his dear wife.

"Maybe it was my _punishment_ ," Abby whispered, and Marcus immediately lost all the colour on his face. They were broaching a very dangerous topic now, one they had both had vowed never to mention to anyone ever again. Fortunately, Abby didn't leave the sentence hanging in the air for too long.

"You should leave," she said, picking up her book again.

There was a short, heavy pause. 

"I should. It is late," Marcus said, bowing his head in acknowledgment. 

"No. You should leave Hertfordshire. You have done your duty. There can't be anything else you need from here."

He probably _should_ leave. It was the most sensible action to take after she had so blatantly rejected him. But he also knew deep in his heart that this - whatever it was - was far from over. 

"I will not leave yet," he said with a flat voice. "I shall obtain myself a wife from here. I was never long enough ashore to even consider that before — I wouldn't want a woman on my ship during the war. But the war is over now and I'm well established."

Abby had stayed quiet the whole time he had talked, looking at him defiantly in the eye.

"I wish you the best of fortune," she said the very second he had finished uttering the last word and sprang up from the sofa. She walked briskly away from the drawing room, the door clacking harshly shut in her wake. 

 _I should not have come_ , Marcus realised.  

As if he had needed a confirmation that she didn't have a single warm feeling towards him left. She _resented_ him. Nothing he did would matter to her and Marcus had been a damned fool to believe otherwise. 

_I should not have come._

It would have been _so easy_  to just address a substantial cheque to her and never think of her again. Frustrated, Marcus considered swinging his fist against the wall but halted before his knuckles grazed the surface. None of this was worth a bleeding hand. 

He proceeded to pace alone in the room, thinking about her words. His mistake seemed to have been the assumption that she would be happy to receive some assistance, but he had forgotten how stubborn she could be. However, he  _could_ make her eventually yield. If he made himself more amiable, it would give her too much pain to decline his offer again in the future, and thus his task would be completed. 

He would make her secure and happy whether she liked it or _not_. 

He also _did_  need a wife and had not realised it before saying so to Abby. Octavia was too young to manage the estate and his mother was getting too old for mistresses' duties. Although romancing someone was the last thing on his mind at the moment, he was afraid that he had no other choice. Socializing with the local ladies would also serve as a good reason to keep on his eye on Abby— Mrs Griffin.

A decision was made. He would not return home without the word _yes_  from Abby's lips - nor without a wife.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus and Abby both find it torturous to stay in the same house, albeit Marcus for a drastically different reason than her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! School and work made life hectic. Hopefully the updates will be more regular now.

Abby was proud to say she had cried _only_ a quarter-hour in her room following her talk with Admiral Kane. After wiping the angry tears from her cheeks, she decided that it was utterly useless to weep over something as inconsequential as his plans to marry. It had nothing to do with her so she mustn't concern herself with it at all! He was obviously going to marry lady Trigeda, and as the time came Abby would finally be free of him and happy. 

She only wished he would've done this a lot sooner. The thought that must have married a long time ago had comforted her throughout all these years because she would never have to see his wife.

Why, oh why hadn't he married? What could've possibly held him back from doing so? He was wealthy, handsome and a romantic at heart. She saw no sense in it. 

It was all the more offensive that he wished himself a wife from Hertfordshire out of all places. Nowhere else, no, it had to be the county where Abby lived, the same parish, the same neighbourhood!

Abby wanted to bite his head off. 

She stifled the urge to scream by pressing a pillow on her face lest Admiral would be alarmed. The last thing she wanted was him barging into her room in the middle of night to discover her furiously weeping in her evening gown like some poor maiden in a gothic novel. Although, it was more likely he would pretend not to hear her and walk away. She wouldn't be surprised if he didn't care much about her.

Abby let out her last sniffles just as there were footsteps on the other side of the door. The shadow in the narrow gap below the door halted at the sound and remained standing there, hesitating. She remained deadly silent, dreading a knock on the door if she let out another sound. However, her fears were eventually baseless. After a long a while, she could hear steps moving farther away again and breathed a sigh of relief. It had to be only a curious servant, but Abby would've still hated to be seen so distraught by anyone. 

After convincing herself that the maid wouldn't return, she found enough peace of mind to fall into disjointed sleep. 

In the morning as her eyes flew open at the smallest of sounds, she remembered where she was. The second thought after that depressing realisation was that her daughter needed her. She climbed out of the bed, wearing only her shift, and sneaked into her daughter's chamber.

Clarke was still pale and sickly, but appeared to be peacefully asleep. She even had a content little smile on her face. Abby let out a relieved sigh and lowered her head to the covers of the bed, looking up at her daughter with overwhelming love in her heart. Only now when she knew Clarke was safe she could rest again, and her eyes fell slowly shut.

She awoke an hour later to her daughter petting her hair. "Mama, wake up," she whispered in a stuffy voice. "Why aren't you in your own bed?"

Abby's eyes fluttered open, and a weak smile spread across her lips when she saw Clarke was up. "I wanted to be with you, dear. Are you feeling any better?"

"Yes, I'm perfectly fine," she said, trying to rise up, but Abby gently coaxed her back to lie down. 

"You don't look fine," she said, voice laced with concern. "You cannot recover in only a day."

"I'd hate to impose on our hosts."

Me too, Abby thought, the memory of Admiral Kane's steely gaze flashing through her mind. She suppressed it with a small grimace that she swiftly morphed into a smile. "We won't leave until you're better. It is not too bad here, is it? Lady Trigeda and Sir Lincoln have been very welcoming. And Miss Woods has done nothing else but dote on you "

Clarke smiled absent-mindedly at that. "Well, if I absolutely have to stay for a while longer..."

"But not for any longer than it's necessary—" Abby hastened to say just as the door opened with a creak. She turned her head, expecting to see Miss Woods paying a morning visit to Clarke, but was faced with a tall, imposing figure of a man instead. Abby flushed in an instant.

Admiral Kane had his full uniform on and was standing by the door in a straight, rigid posture. The only thing chipping away his formality was the slight redness of his face and his averted gaze. Only then Abby remembered her state of undress. She was only wearing a sheer, shoulder-exposing shift with her hair flowing freely around her shoulders. She started arranging her curls in panic to cover the bared skin while also dreadfully aware of the fact that her chest was starting to glow the same hue of pink as her cheeks. 

Kane cleared his throat. "I thought Miss Alexandra would be here."

"She's not."

**"** I can see that," Admiral said gruffly. "I just wanted to tell her mother and I are going riding today—"

He paused. Abby saw him looking at her in a way that suggested he was considering apologising for yesterday’s quarrel. In the end, however, he seemingly decided not to. The man was too proud for that.

"Of course you are free to join us," he eventually sputtered out.

"Oh, thank you, but I'd rather stay with my daughter," Abby said quickly, self-consciously draping her hand over her body to shield it from his eyes. Admiral nodded, his eyes flickering over her figure until his face grew red again.

"Have it your way," he said and was swiftly out of the door. It closed after him with a loud thump. 

After a brief silence, Clarke offered her opinion. "I have a feeling Admiral doesn't like you very much, mama."

Abby sighed. "I know."

* * *

When Abby joined the others for late breakfast, this time fully dressed, she discovered that Admiral was still flustered. 

_Is this truly the first time you have seen a woman's bare shoulder?_ she tried to say with a glower she shot in his direction. As Kane was unable to meet her eyes, the corner of Abby's lips started tugging in amusement. There seemed to, indeed, be one way to shake the mighty Admiral's grim resolve. 

It continued for four days more. Lady Trigeda had sent servants to fetch Abby and Clarke a supply of their own clothing, but her dressing gown was left out of it for some reason. Thus, Abby continued moving between her room and her daughter in only her shift to Admiral's displeasure. She didn't care. If nothing else, Abby quite enjoyed scandalising him and it was always a relief that he'd rather stay in his own quarters until late morning in order to avoid running into her. 

All in all, Admiral uttered no more than few cool words to her during her stay. 

For four days Abby also politely declined any outdoors activities Sir Lincoln and Lady Trigeda persuaded her to join. Her daughter's wellbeing was always the reason, but it proved to be harder and harder to find an excuse as her condition improved. 

"We shall go on a long walk to survey the lands we have leased, and I want you to join," Lady Trigeda said as she enjoyed her second helping of eggs. "My servants fetched you another walking dress, did they not?"

"I thank you for kindness, but I was planning on staying with my daughter—"

"Miss Griffin is well enough not to need her mother for one day. Alexandra already volunteered to entertain her. Besides, you wouldn't deprive me of a female companion for this tour, Mrs Griffin?" she asked in a stern voice. 

There was something so forceful in lady Trigeda's sheer being that Abby couldn't find it in herself to object, especially when she was still dependent on their hospitality. 

"I do not own a second walking dress," Abby said meekly. "But the one I have should be clean by now. If you don't mind, I will wear that."

"Fine. We shall leave at noon."

The last thing Abby wanted to do was leave her daughter, but as she climbed upstairs to tell Clarke about the tour, the girl was too preoccupied with Miss Woods' amusing story to even take a note of her mother's explanation. Abby went to change into her walking dress with a heavy heart. She supposed the only way to be purposeful was by keeping Lady Trigeda company. 

The party of Sir Lincoln, Lady Trigeda, Admiral Kane and Abby left the house at noon. The two gentlemen walked ahead, and Abby dutifully followed after Lady Trigeda. 

Abby was slightly intimidated by the tall woman. Her every stride left Abby miles in her wake, her every word was graceful and carefully measured, and even her big parasol seemed mightier than Abby’s whole tiny being. She wondered if lady Trigeda was everything Admiral Kane would want in a woman.

”You were a mistress of a sizable estate for over a decade, I have heard,” lady Trigeda suddenly said.

”I ran my husband’s estate for twelve years until he passed away,” Abby replied, startled. 

”And how long have you been a widow now?”

”Eight years.”

”But that skill is still ingrained in you, is it not? I can only presume that it won’t take even half a day before you’re used to managing a great estate again. Even larger than this one.”

Abby didn’t know how to tell lady Trigeda that she wouldn’t be acquiring any large estates in the near _or_ far future. She was perplexed about what she had meant by that question. 

"I believe mistress' duties might never leave me,” she eventually offered as an answer.

”Perfect,” lady Trigeda said, satisfied expression on her face. 

Oddly enough, Lady Trigeda didn’t have much else to discuss with her. Despite her demands for Abby to join her, she was more interested in falling behind every once in a while to tie her shoelaces rather than initiating any conversation, forcing Abby to walk by Admiral Kane’s side. 

He wouldn't even look at her, and his cool proximity was soon more than she could bear. She started halting with lady Trigeda in order to politely wait for her, but that somehow annoyed the lady a great deal. She even tried to drive her away with a wave of her hand as soon as she stopped again, but that only made Abby more confused. Lady Trigeda eventually just scoffed and started striding forward so fast Abby had no choice but to be left behind with Kane.

She quickly started searching for Sir Lincoln with her gaze in order to escape. However, the young gentleman seemed to have vanished into thin air.

Admiral was as mute as ever. However, as they entered a small park on the outskirts of the estate, Admiral Kane was no longer averting his gaze but blatantly watching her. Abby felt his eyes glued to her hem as it glided across the paving in her wake. Whenever Abby turned her head to look back at him, his eyes shifted somewhere else, his expression strained. Abby grit her teeth in annoyance. Did he really find no other amusement than criticising her outfit?

She became more self-conscious of her worn walking dress the more he stared at her. 

As a revenge, the next time she had to skip over a tiny stream in the garden, she lifted up her skirt, revealing her ankle and a part of her bare leg for just a brief enough moment he couldn't claim it was intentional. The effect was immediate. Embarrassed, Admiral Kane chose to fall behind of the whole party.

Oh, if the French had known to utilise the effect of an ankle on foolish Englishmen, the war would surely have been lost!

Lincoln interrupted Abby's amused reverie. He re-emerged from behind the trees with a big smile on his face and some surprise guests in his tow. Abby's face quickly fell when she recognised them. 

Right behind Sir Lincoln walked grinning Mrs Sidney with her nieces clinging to each of her arms. Her brother Mr Shumway, most likely filling the role of a chaperone, followed right after the ladies. 

"I ran into Mrs Griffin's friends!" Sir Lincoln proudly exclaimed. 

Mrs Sidney brought an innocent expression to her face. "What a lovely coincidence! We had no idea we'd cross paths with my dear friend Mrs Griffin walking in this part of the parish. How is your daughter, Abby?"

Abby was not aware she and Mrs Sidney were on speaking terms again after Clarke had stolen the spot as Sir Lincoln's favourite in the ball, nor that they were on first name basis.

"She's well. Thank you, uhm, Diana?"

"We absolutely have to catch up now that we have the chance! If of course, Sir Lincoln doesn't mind that we join your little party...?"

"Of course not," Sir Lincoln smiled. "More the merrier!" 

Admiral Kane and Lady Trigeda seemed to disagree with the sentiment, exchanging looks of irritation. 

Mrs Sidney immediately attached herself to Abby's arm like a hound sinking its teeth to a hen, leaving her poor nieces hovering uncomfortably around Sir Lincoln. Fortunately, the man was more than happy to entertain the girls and scooped them both into a lively conversation. Mrs Sidney looked exceedingly pleased at the sight, even when she pretended to be fully focused on Abby. Abby prayed Lady Trigeda and Admiral didn't think she was in cahoots with Mrs Sidney in whatever ruse she was trying to execute. 

When they started moving again, Mrs Sidney forcibly yanked Abby closer to hiss in her ear. "A brilliant move, really. I wish I could've thought of stranding one of my nieces sick in Sir Lincoln's house. I aplaud you for that. However, this is far from over."

Abby didn't even want to think of methods Mrs Sidney would've used to ensure one of her nieces was bedridden in Polis Park. Instead, she focused on a way to politely to resign from this matrimonial warfare. 

"Clarke was only interested in seeing Miss Woods the day she she fell sick. She doesn't have any plans regarding Sir Lincoln."

"But you _do_."

Abby sighed. It would be no use arguing with her. "How did you even know I would be walking here today?" 

"The whole parish knows you are staying at the mansion house. I was planning on taking advantage of that and calling on you. The servants informed us that you were out, and I tracked you here. I want to thank you for providing a perfect opportunity for my nieces to spend more time with Sir Lincoln. It's far too early get arrogant even if your one little move happened to succeed, dear!"

Abby gathered every ounce of her willpower to remain polite, only to fail miserably at the last second.

"Are you aware that Sir Lincoln  _cannot_ marry both of your nieces?" she hissed. 

"They are both free to try to please as much they can. Sir Lincoln can pick his favourite in the end. The other girl goes home."

"I thought you were planning to pair the odd one out with the admiral," Abby said dryly. 

"I wouldn't even think of marrying a member of my family to a sailor! No matter how wealthy he is, the money is still dirty and not worth our attention."

This was quite a change of tune from the day she had told Abby the news. Mrs Sidney really seemed to have taken it personally that Admiral Kane hadn't laid even one look on her nieces. Abby wondered if Mrs Sydney's pride was one of the few capable of exceeding the admiral's. 

"Admiral Kane made his fortune by serving his country. Be respectful."

"If you knew the true origin of his wealth, you ought to think the same way I do."

In the next instant, Mrs Sidney called out to Kane. 

"Admiral Kane! My dear Abby was curious about how in the world you've made your fortune. Would you care to explain?"

Abby flushed red as Admiral turned his head towards them. She knew about the naval career far more than Mrs Sidney could even claim to do. She hoped Kane didn't think of her as willfully ignorant. 

"I merely had luck on my side. The ships I was assigned on got their fair share of King's price money the more French ships we gained victory over. I was also fortunate enough to advance quickly so that I eventually had my own flagship and was able to retain a great portion of all the spoils. However, I could've easily been one of the men who perished before ever getting to spend their money—"

Mrs Sidney interrupted him.

"So you would say your money is from the French?"

"It can be said so."

Mrs Sidney rolled her eyes, expressing her clear distaste at the piece of information. The way she was looking at Abby suggested that she was expecting her to be just as outraged. _French money! The horror!_ Admiral Kane might as well have made his fortune digging ditches. 

Abby decided to change the subject. "Aren't you afraid such a large increase of wealth might corrupt a person?" she asked Kane. 

He took the bait. "Depends on how you use it. For instance, I can see no fault in offering it to less fortunate."

"I can believe that," Abby said bitingly.

"However, it greatly annoys me when some people are too prideful to accept any offer," he sniped back. 

"It is an interesting question, indeed. Can the pride of an unfortunate one be greater than the pride of a rich man? You cannot deny that wealth often causes one make presumptions of the other's need, sometimes causing them to even look down on them."

"Perhaps the rich man only wants to help, but the person in plight is so blind to her one predicament that she may turn down an offer made in perfect kindness."

" _Perhaps_ the woman in question would be more inclined to accept if not for the arrogance of the helper. Would you agree that in this imaginary scenario, the rich man is in the wrong?"

Kane's face was now as dark as a storm cloud. " _Perhaps_ the fantasy world where the person in plight is living in causes her to perceive every offer of help as disdain."

" _Perhaps_  the fantasy world where the rich man is in living in makes him believe that every penny he is willing to relieve from his purse is a grace from God Himself, even when his perception of the other person's need is completely imaginary?"

Abby was unaware that her voice was loud enough to be considered shouting and realized this only when Kane responded with a yell of his own. "Then the man shouldn't even bother in the face of such foolishness!"

"Perfect! Nothing from him is needed!

Mrs Sidney cleared her throat. "As much I enjoy a lively moral debate, this kind of animation is too taxing for my nerves. I'm sorry, Admiral, but is not genteel to shout at women."

They both had raised their voices, but Abby didn't defend Kane since it was so refreshing to witness Mrs Sidney taking her side, even it was just an opportunity to take a further snipe at Kane's profession. "Then again I wouldn't be surprised if this custom had escaped your attention in your line of work," she said in a honeyed voice.

Kane first laid an annoyed look at Mrs Sidney, then turned to Abby, looking truly ashamed. "I apologise for raising my voice," he said. "Allow me to excuse myself. This is not how a person in the position I will soon gain would act." 

In the next moment, he was gone, leaving Abby victorious and Mrs Sidney bewildered.

"Did he say position he would soon gain?" Mrs Sidney peeped next to her. "Why did he say position he'd soon gain? 

What an unfortunate slip from Admiral Kane! If it had happened in any other company, nobody would've spared a second thought to the term he had used, but such things never escaped Mrs Sidney's attention. The next few miles she spent frantically digging up information. Eventually, Sir Lincoln's slippery tongue revealed to her that Admiral Kane had been offered a _lordship_ by the King himself for his services in the war.

_Lordship!_ Abby could see Mrs Sidney's eyes grow as round as saucers as she received the news. 

Kane had yet to visit London to be granted this title which was the reason he had kept his former rank, admiral. Abby could understand why. If  _Lord_ Kane had sauntered into their parish, the local ladies would've torn him apart limb by limb. 

However, now that Mrs Sidney knew, all hell was loose. Apparently, the only thing she yearned more than life was a family connection to a _Lord._  Her two nieces were ordered to besiege Admiral Kane faster than Sir Lincoln could finish the word "lordship".

At least Abby could now be at peace since Mrs Sidney chose to leech onto the admiral instead of her. Abby coudn't help but flash him a teasing smile every once in a while as she spotted him being tormented by Mrs Sidney, who was suddenly uttermost interested in all things naval, and her two nieces. He looked miserable.

_Lord_ Kane, she sampled with her tongue and frowned a little. She preferred _Admiral_ Kane a great deal more. She blushed at the thought. The peerage was the greatest honour a fighting man could be granted and she should rather be grateful for his service. Besides, her opinion didn't matter. Abby wouldn't see him again after he had found a wife and returned to Derbyshire. 

Mrs Sidney's efforts to keep her nieces glued to him were eventually futile. Shy Miss Fox soon escaped to her uncle and while Harper still dutifully tried to entartain the admiral, she soon became fascinated with something else entirely. It appeared so that the party had been approaching a small patch of land where the widow of Captain Green and her son resided. As soon as Mrs Sidney recognized their land she started steering everyone to a drastically different direction, but it was too late. Miss McIntyre's eyes were already gleaming. 

Mr Shumway and Mrs Sidney only shared the same father, and the Greens happened to be relatives of Mr Shumway — a fact that Mrs Sidney tried her hardest to bury — and now that Harper was back in the countryside there was a real danger that she wanted to rekindle the warm relationship she had had with the young Mr Green last summer. After discovering the blossoming romance, Mrs Sidney had fought nail and tooth in order to get Miss McIntyre sent back to London and for her lowly "dalliance" with a mere sea captain's son to end. It appeared so that Miss Sidney had watched her niece like a hawk and made great efforts so that the girl couldn't be able to see Mr Green from the moment she returned to Hertfordshire, only for her plans to crumble when her niece made a daring dart towards the house the second she saw it. 

"What do you think you're doing?" Miss Sydney yelled after her, causing Abby to feel embarrassed for her sake. 

"They are relatives. It is our duty to call on them," Mr Shumway said. In a surprising turn of events, he wouldn't listent to her sister's pleas and threats to bring the girl back. 

"They are relatives," he repeated stubbornly and informed Sir Lincoln that they would visit the Greens. Lincoln, being the good-natured gentleman he was, ordered the whole party to halt so they could wait for their return in the shrubbery. Mrs Sidney, however, refused to go and managed to keep Miss Fox from leaving too. 

"Only once have I ever set foot in that house," she said to lady Trigeda as if she was apologising for such lowly relatives. Lady Trigeda pretended not to hear. She promptly decided to join Abby's company who had plopped down on a nearby log, sighing. They had been walking for a better part of the day now and the heat was tiring her out. 

"I'm sorry. Mrs Sidney and I are not that good friends," Abby felt the need to explain as Lady Trigeda seated herself next to her. She moved so that lady Trigeda would have a drier spot on a log in a strange burst of need to please her. 

"I assumed so," Lady Trigeda said to Abby's relief.

Lady Trigeda caught her looking at Kane and Miss Fox. The girl seemed distressed about something, perhaps for not having been allowed to visit the Greens. He was smiling gently at her, almost fatherly. There was a strange little somersault in Abby's stomach at that.

"Don't worry. Kane won't marry someone the same age as his daughter," lady Trigeda said dryly, seeing Mrs Sidney eyeing the pair hopefully.

Abby's heart dropped at the bottom of her stomach.

"He has a daughter?" She asked with a shaky voice, every inch of her suddenly feeling cold. 

_How old was she?_

_Who's the mother?_

_Why didn't he tell me?_

_How old was she?_ she thought again in distress.

Lady Trigeda observed Abby's reaction thoughtfully before speaking up again.

"She's 16 and not actually his daughter. That is just what he calls her for the sake of propriety. It is a complicated, messy thing that doesn't stand the light of day. Please don't pass this forward. I only decided to reveal this to you in order to ease your worries."

_Ease her worries_? Because of Lady Trigeda's words, she was now more anxious than ever. 

"What worries?" Abby asked, forcing herself not to turn around to gape at Kane and try conjure what the girl he called his daughter would look like. 

"Worries about the female company Kane keeps."

Abby's head was swimming. Barely anything lady Trigeda had said today had made a lick of sense. 

"Why wouldn't he spend time with young ladies? He did tell me he came here in order to obtain a wife," she said, holding her head. It was starting to ache because of the heat and constant surprises. 

Lady Trigeda snapped her head towards her. "No need to play half-witted with me. I think we both know which woman was on his mind when he said that," she said sharply.

Abby blinked. She didn't know what to say to that so she made a decision to keep quiet. She clearly didn't have any of the intel Lady Trigeda seemed to have about the woman Admiral planned to marry. 

"Don't worry, I more than approve of the match," she continued, turning away to cool herself down with her fan. "It is beneficial for both parties, if you can excuse my frankness. He is a dear friend and I wish him all the happiness."

Abby's head was filled with questions but there was only one that she _had to_ know the answer to. "Why hasn't he offered to you? There is clearly a lot of affection between—"

That was the first time Abby heard lady Trigeda let out something resembling a smile. She immediately regained her stony expression before answering. 

"I'd hate Kane to suffer that fate."

Abby looked at her quizzically.

"All of my husbands have died. You must understand that I could never risk Kane that way. He's one of the few men that I actually like, and I'd hate to end up strangling him myself. I couldn't stand all that melancholia and pining!"

Lady Trigeda lowered her hand on Abby's arm in a friendly gesture. "But for anyone other than me he would make a splendid husband."

* * *

At the same time Abby tried to futilely interpret Lady Trigeda's words, Marcus was watching her from behind the shrubs. He was particularly observing her long, graceful fingers she rested in her lap. Her hands weren't gloved, which bothered him. Had she no idea how easily a man could take advantage of that? Many times as Mrs Griffin had skipped over the shallow fences between pastures, Marcus could have easily grabbed her hand and felt her bare, soft skin against his, under the guise of helping her over the fence.

But he wasn't that kind of a man.

Regrettably, Mrs Griffin's continued presence in his house caused these kinds of thoughts to fill his head more often than he'd like. The past five days had been nearly nightmarish. He had been foolish enough to believe it would be easy to have her there since she was just as infuriating as ever, and that he'd be in no danger of developing any idiotic feelings for her. 

However, he hadn't taken her beauty and his male weakness into account.

The thoughts made him quite detest himself. He couldn't stop conjuring up the image of freckles on her bare shoulder, the sheerness of her shift, the blush on her bosom, the glimpse of her leg. It all haunted him. If he had been any lesser man, he would've already allowed himself to dwell in these thoughts in bed at night and take his hardness in his hand, but he was determined not to dishonour Mrs Griffin so.

However, he firmly believed he'd have a similar reaction to any other beautiful woman residing in the same house as him. Because after 20 years since he last saw her, he still could...

God, he needed to find a wife and fast. 

But first, He needed to get Mrs Griffin out of the house as quickly as possible for his troubling infatuation for her could be brushed off the moment she was gone. He would also need to limit his contact with her in the future. The dilemma was, however, how he would be able to convince her to accept his offer while at the same time avoiding her as much as possible. 

His ponderings were cut short. He had successfully comforted Miss Fox just a moment before and the girl had run off, only to be replaced now by her aunt. Mrs Sydney quickly took note of the direction of his gaze, forcing Marcus to take his eyes off Mrs Griffin. A brief, calculating look flashed in her eyes before her lips bent into a wry smile.

"I assure you, you won't need to worry about her financial security for much longer."

Marcus snapped his head around. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not a fool. I'm well aware that your furious debate earlier had to do with your concerns about her small income. I admire your eagerness to help a widow in need, but I do believe she's able to sort out everything on her own. She's a beautiful woman, after all."

Marcus looked the question. 

"Don't you know? Her landlord has been courting her for several months now. It is rather impressive. Even penniless, she is able to seduce such a powerful man."

"You can't possibly mean Mr Jaha," he sputtered out, his mind struggling to digest the news. Abby, by far the cleverest, the wittiest, the most extraordinary woman in the whole of England to an insipid fool like Mr Jaha! He was compelled to laugh. Mr Jaha could only dream of her looking his way with even remote interest. 

Mrs Sidney continued. "I'm delighted for her sake. This might be the only chance she gets to raise herself and her daughter from their _dreadful_  poverty."

Suddenly the news didn't sound so ridiculous at all. Horrified, Marcus was forced to consider that Abby might have no other choice but accept his offer, if whatever Mrs Sidney was spouting out was even true. He hoped this was only some fanciful rumour she wished to share rather than an actual, frightening possibility.

The thought of her entering into another union set a dark weight on his chest he couldn't shake, no matter how hard he tried. Not that he was bothered at the prospect her marrying - the lady could do as she pleased - but to Mr Jaha of all people, he would have to object.

And now that he thought about it, there were barely any men he would feel comfortable to see her off to. 

"I hope it is only a matter of days when their union is announced," Mrs Sidney said.

"Over my cold body," Marcus grunted under his breath.

"Sorry, what did you say?"

"Nothing at all."

* * *

Miss McIntyre soon returned with young Mr Monty Green in her arm. Both were beaming like the sun. 

"You'll never guess what happened, aunt Diana!" 

Mrs Sidney's face twisted into a grimace as she was forced to wish joy for the happy couple. This was what had happened: not sure when he'd get the next chance, Mr Green had proposed immediately and had been accepted at the front door of the Green Lodge in the presence of Mrs Green and Mr Shumway who both gave their blessing to the union. Abby wondered whether Mr Shumway had led the party towards his relatives on purpose. She suddenly found herself liking him for the first time in her life. 

Abby was happy enough for both Miss McIntyre and Mr Monty to cover Mrs Sidney's portion as well. The woman looked like she had just received the worst news of her life.

After the happy occassion, the atmosphere of the party was higher than ever. Sir Lincoln looked like he had personally brought the two together, Lady Trigeda and Admiral were pleased, the young couple ecstatic, and Miss Fox only slightly jealous of her cousin's brave grab at freedom from their aunt's clutches.

The company continued cheerfully on. There was a short pause out of consideration which gentleman would walk with which lady as their foothpath narrowed down to force the formation of parties. For a brief moment, it seemed as if Admiral Kane would be forced to take Abby's arm which was a prospect they both feared. However, they were saved by the awkwardness when Mr Shumway offered Abby his arm. She tried not to let her apparent relief be betrayed by her features while Admiral Kane's face remained stony. He linked arms with Lady Trigeda.

Despite the disappointment for Harper's sake, delight was plain upon Mrs Sidney's face when Miss Fox ended up arm in arm with Sir Lincoln. This prompted a discussion on the matter of matrimony.

"Now Felicity is only our chance of securing Sir Lincoln, but may I say, she seems to be succeeding!"

Mr Shumway offered her merely a grunt in response.

"I thought Miss Fox was marked out for Admiral Kane," Abby said dryly.

"I always considered Harper more suited for Sir Lincoln, while Felicity seemed to please Admiral Kane more, but this unfortunate occasion forces me to re-eveluate the wisest way to link the two gentlemen into our family. There's still one more lady left on the marriage mart."

Then she turned to Admiral Kane's direction and visibly pursed her lips. 

_Good gracious. She's throwing herself into the ring._

It made sense that Mrs Sidney would drag herself to the marriage mart once again for the sake of a title, but didn't make it any less upsetting. Abby didn't know whether she felt sorrier for Mrs Sidney for having to go through this again for a relatively worthless reward, or for Admiral Kane for having been ruthlessly targeted. They would both be miserable together, Abby thought. 

Then again, she didn't know which woman she would pick for the admiral if she was granted the opportunity. No one in her mind seemed suitable for him. 

After receiving no answer from her brother, Mrs Sidney turned to Abby. "What do you think, will Sir Lincoln be able to swallow up his disappointment with Harper and offer for Felicity soon?" Mrs Sidney asked, a poignant edge in her voice as always when she tried to stress Clarke's absence in the competition to Abby.

Sir Lincoln could marry Admiral Kane for all Abby cared. She merely wanted to be back at her daughter's bedside. Her vision was starting to blur in the heat of the day, and her limbs felt as heavy as rocks. The walk had proven to be far longer than she'd intended because of the Mrs Sidney's machinations. 

She found some comfort in Mr Shumway's arm, but the man quickly grew so weary of his sister's conjectures that he dropped both of their arms and fell behind to converse with Sir Lincoln much to the chagrin of Mrs Sidney who wished the young gentleman only the undivided attention of her niece.

Admiral Kane and Lady Trigeda were walking slowly behind Abby, conversing in hushed tones. She could feel their gaze burning at the back of her head, putting her even more ill at ease. Undoubtedly, they were remarking on her hunched posture and slow movements. Abby hated to be thought as weak in their eyes. She tried to improve her pace in vain.

As they reached a lane crossing their path, they heard the sound of an advancing carriage. The gig belonged to Mr and Mrs Sinclair who were intrigued to see such a numerous walking party. After noting the presence of Admiral Kane, Callie shot Abby a questioning look which she evaded in haste. She wasn't willing to offer an explanation for her predicament. Not now, at least.

"This assembly was born out of sheer coincidence. My family is returning from our call upon my cousins, the Greens, while Admiral Kane, Lady Trigeda and Mrs Griffin are to continue back to Polis Park," Mr Shumway explained.

"The ladies must be exhausted," Mr Sinclair remarked after their seeing the muddied hems of their dresses.

"There is a seat for one in our carriage. You'd save a full mile, we are returning in any case by that road," Callie said.

Everyone politely declined even though Abby's feet had some qualms on the matter. However, before Mr Sinclair could put his horse in motion again, Admiral Kane walked up to Mr Sinclair and said something to him in low voice but in perfect hearing range of Abby and Mrs Sidney next to her.

"Take Abby. She's very tired," he whispered.

Mrs Sidney's ears pricked up at the use of Abby's Christian name. Admiral Kane seemed unconscious of this slip while blood rushed to Abby's face. She took offence on such outrageous familiarity, particularly in the proximity of this attentive company.

Callie smiled at her. "Dear friend, give us the pleasure of taking you back to Polis."

Abby turned to Admiral Kane, directing his words partly to him.

"You're too kind. But as I can see, there is no room. I shall be glad to walk back with the rest of the party."

Abby made no attempts to conceal the flash of challenge in her eyes which was met with a cool, indifferent look in his. Admiral wouldn't rid himself of her company that easily. Despite  how uneasy they both were in each other's proximity, Abby was determined to bear it just to be left standing as a victor.

"Nonsense," Mr Sinclair said. "Callie and I will squash up. Were we all as tiny as you, there'd be room for four."

"Oh, no, I really can't — "

The words of protest died down on her lips, however, when a hand came to rest on her waist.

" _Please_ ," Admiral Kane said.

The heat of his palm radiated through the fabric of her dress as it lay there, broad and firm. Another hand clasped around her. She was lifted off the ground onto the carriage, an involuntary gasp tumbling from between her lips. His brown eyes affirmed that she was safely seated next to Callie, then flickered up to briefly meet hers. One second of held gaze stretched into an eternity while his hands lingered, sliding down her dress as if to smooth out the fabric before departing.

"Thank you," Abby said, suddenly out of breath.

Marcus — no, Admiral Kane offered her a quick, jerkish nod before stepping back, his expression darkening again. His hand clenched and unclenched at his side; a momentary, barely noticeable gesture marked only by her and Admiral himself. He promptly corrected himself and offered his arm to Mrs Sidney. She accepted it with delight, but her observant eyes were still fixed on Abby's shaky disposition.

"Walk on!" Mr Sinclair called out, and the carriage jerked into motion. Abby watched the party move farther and farther from sight, her pulse hammering in her throat.

Callie asked her whether she was alright, but it took a long while before Abby was able to force any words out of her mouth again. 

"No, I'm not," she said in a small voice. The warmth of his touch was still lingering on her skin, seemingly coursing to her very core.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indra offers to help Marcus regain Abby's friendship. Jaha comes forward with an offer of marriage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long again! Thank you everyone for sticking with this story. As always, kudos and comments are super appreciated!

After her tiring and bewildering walk around the Polis Park grounds, Abby returned to mansion house only find her sick daughter out of bed, exerting herself in the most ill-advised manner.

She was  _dancing._

Miss Woods had her hand lowered on her daughter's waist and the other clasped within Clarke's fingers. She was leading rather clumsily stumbling Clarke into a waltz. Despite the less than stellar performance at the novel dance, the girl was laughing with her cheeks flushed pink. 

"Clarke!" Abby called out. "What are you doing up on your feet?"

Clarke sprang apart from Miss Woods as if she had been caught doing something bad. She turned to her mother, expression fraught with anxiety. "Lexa- I mean, miss Alexandra was just showing me how to waltz. I swear, I felt much better this afternoon and I wanted to know what dance she been raving about. Waltz is the new, scandalous dance from London-"

"I know what a waltz is," Abby said, flushing at a particularly painful memory suddenly brought to her mind. 

"Mrs Griffin, I'm so sorry for taking your daughter out of bed. I shall get her back immediately-

"No need," Abby complied. "She does look better." 

There was a healthy glow on Clarke's cheeks which made Abby happy. She also didn't appear fatigued from the dancing which made Abby hopeful for a timely homecoming. 

"How was your walk, Mrs Griffin?" Miss Woods asked.

"Long," Abby said, hoping that the answer would be enough. Callie had already bombarded her with an endless amount of questions about why she had been walking with Admiral Kane, how was he like, and how he had been treating her. Abby understood the curiosity, especially after she had spent most the carriage ride with flaming cheeks just because he had touched her. However, that didn't mean she was willing to even try to explain how Admiral Kane was affecting her.

"The next time, mother will surely pick a shorter route."

_Next time?_  Abby shuddered at the thought.

"I was actually thinking that my daughter and I ought to return home soon. I'd hate to burden you for much longer," Abby suggested. 

Clarke's expression turned grim in a flash. She and Miss Woods exchanged looks.

"I'm sorry, but we won't let Clarke- your daughter go before she's completely healthy!" Miss Woods then said. "Look how pale she is. Please sit down, Miss Griffin."

With that said, she lowered her arm gently on around Clarke's shoulders and guided her to the nearest armchair. Her daughter didn't look pale to Abby, but she supposed Lexa was more attuned to her symptoms after having spent so much time with her during her sickness. 

"How are you feeling, dear?" Abby asked.

"Just a little weak," Clarke said with a faint voice. "Perhaps... I could have at least one more day to rest?"

"Well, of course," Miss Woods said, giving Clarke a smile Abby couldn't quite interpret. 

* * *

It was surprisingly difficult to shake off Mrs Sidney. The woman had invited herself over for tea at least thrice over before Lady Trigeda managed to make her head home with a bunch of empty promises of future acquaintance in her pocket. The woman then shoved her gloved hand to Marcus' face, expecting him to kiss it. He chose to ignore it. 

As the party finally returned home and stepped inside the parlour, Marcus saw nothing out of ordinary. Servants were fluttering from room to room, Miss Alexandra was practicing her piano, and Miss Griffin appeared to be well enough to have moved downstairs to rest on the sofa, drawing something with a pencil onto the paper in her lap. The sight was so serene it was pleasing to view.

Then Mrs Griffin appeared. She did as little as step inside the room with her hair untied, and a rush of desire instantaneously pooled within him.

Marcus clenched his jaw in frustration at himself. Mrs Griffin's brown eyes flickered to his grim expression and her countenance darkened too. Of course, she took it wrong. She flashed him a cool look and walked to her daughter. As Mrs Griffin sat beside her on the sofa, she whispered something into her ear with an amused expression on her face which made Miss Griffin glance at him and give a laugh.

Marcus' face grew hot.

"I'm glad to see you back," Mrs Griffin eventually said, directing her words to Lincoln and Lady Trigeda rather than to him. 

Deciding against engaging her, he sat down at the desk and drew out the draft of a letter to Octavia. He hoped working on it would distract him from her presence, but she seemed to have already occupied every nook of his mind; After writing  _Dear Abby_  instead of _Dear Octavia_ , he scrunched up the letter violently and began again.

”I apologize for not calling a carriage of our own to take you back,” Lady Trigeda said. ”I was not aware you were so tired.”

”It was only the heat that bothered me - I'm more than well now, trust me."

"Yes, I trust you have had your rest," Sir Lincoln said. Footsteps signaled he had swiftly sailed to her side. "You look energized. And your daughter! The sickness appears to have completely fled her. She looks as radiant as I've ever seen her."

The girl let out a disbelieving puff of air at that. 

"I'm happy you're well enough to come downstairs! Please, let me see what you have been drawing."

Miss Griffin seemed to have shown Sir Lincoln her drawing pad eagerly since the two pursued an enthusiastic conversation about the technique the girl had used,the thickness of lines, shading and colour theory Marcus could understand very little of. He couldn’t help but glance at Mrs Griffin as the two talked. The woman looked at Sir Lincoln with the same interest Marcus had seen flash in Mrs Sidney's eyes as Sir Lincoln had paid even the slightest amount of interest to her nieces. It was also the same look Lady Trigeda had in her eyes now as she saw Marcus looking at Mrs Griffin.

_Women!_

_”_ Mrs Griffin, now that your daughter is better, how long are you planning on staying?” he asked suddenly.

That earned him a narrowing of eyes from Mrs Griffin and a murderous look from both Lady Trigeda and Miss Woods. Sir Lincoln merely looked sad and confused.

”Surely you can stay for a few days more?” He asked. ”I haven’t even begunshowing Miss Griffin the extent of our library and art collection. Not to mention the gardens-”

”That is quite alright. We have stayed long enough,” Mrs Griffin replied, never taking her frosty look off Marcus. She gracefully rose from her seat. "If Admiral so wishes, I will go gather up my luggage immediately."

"You will do no such thing," Lady Trigeda said sternly. "I will have my servants pack your clothes. Tomorrow morning is the absolute earliest I will allow you to go."

"Then we shall leave then," Mrs Griffin said.

"Forgive me for my crudeness," Marcus said, turning to her. "I want  _you_..."

He paused to clear his throat. "...And Miss Griffin to stay."

"It's quite alright. I do long to return home."

Marcus tried to protest out of politeness, but Lincoln cut him off. 

"Don't be too hasty now. There's something I have been talking about with my sister that you absolutely need to hear before you even plan on leaving."

Miss Alexandra smiled as his brother walked to Miss Griffin and gave her a little bow. "Miss Griffin, you would grant us a great honour if you allowed us to arrange your ball in your favour here at Polis Park. We believe you have never had a proper coming-out, have you? "

As Miss Griffin's mouth fell open, Mrs Griffin rose to object. 

”Oh no, I can’t possibly accept that. My daughter has attended a good array of balls and parties, and by the lcoal standards she has been out for a year now."

"But Assembly Room balls don't count!" Sir Lincoln exlaimed.

"No event counts where even the butcher's son is welcome if he manages to scrape enough money for a ticket," Lady Trigeda commented. "Miss Griffin lacks an introduction to the higher society."

"No, please! We are the most grateful for such an offer, but that is simply too great of an honour-"

"Not to someone like you," Miss Alexandra said softly, looking at Clarke. If Marcus' eyes didn't fool him, the girl blushed like a besotted maiden. He raised his brow at that, only to forget it the very next moment.

"I can't allow you to spend that money-" Mrs Griffin continued. 

"We were planning on having a proper, nice country ball here anyway. What's a better reason for it than your lovely daughter?"

Mrs Griffin still persisted. "How would we even get there? We don’t have a carriage and to rent one- Mrs Griffin said, furiously blushing in her efforts to go around of saying she couldn't afford it. 

”We’ll obviously send a carriage to fetch you two, right mother?” Lincoln turned to Lady Trigeda who offered a curt nod.

”But Clarke doesn’t have a gown for that sort of a fine occassion and I don’t either," she said sadly. "The ones we have are old and worn, and you wouldn't even want to let us in if we arrived with them on."

Marcus thought sorrowfully back to the time Mrs Griffin had so many gowns she could afford completely ruining the finest one of them by spending a rainy afternoon laughing in his arms. Perhaps it was that pretty image in his mind that made him suddenly speak up.

”I will take you and your daughter to London before the ball to get you both gowns,” he blurted out.

Abby’s eyes widened at the shocking offer, and her lips parted in objection, but the three curious pair of eyes forced her to swallow down whatever sharp words she had reserved for him. Something akin to anguish flashed in her eyes as he looked up at him.

"I-" she tried.

Miss Griffin was blatantly staring at them both with a slack jaw. Only then he realised in what a position he had put her mother in.

It would be impolite for Mrs Griffin to decline something entailed in the offer that had been already thrust upon her three times from people of far higher social standing, but acceptance of such a gift that was directed to herself as well - from a  _man_ \- would tie her to him for propriety’s sake. Offering to buy her a gown was practically a marriage proposal.

He really should have thought this through.

”Of course, Lady Trigeda will sort out the costs,” Marcus said quickly, granting Mrs Griffin her freedom. The woman’s shoulders slumped in relief.

”Then i would be obliged to-”

”It’s all settled then,” Miss Woods said hastily, glancing at Miss Griffin. 

”Not quite,” Sir Lincoln said, bouncing off his seat in order to rush to Mrs Griffin. He grabbed her hand and began leading her to Marcus. ”Such a generous offer demands a reward. Surely, you will promise yourself to the Admiral for the first set of dances at the ball?”

Lincoln was offering Mrs Griffin’s ungloved hand for him to accept, and for a moment Marcus was too dumbfounded to do nothing but oblige. He almost had her in his grasp when Mrs Griffin swiftly withrew her hand out of his reach. 

"Perhaps he ought to save those first two dances for the woman he'd like to marry."

After uttering that, she batted her lashes innocently at him and walked out of the parlour with her head tossed back. The following, deep silence was broken only by Lincoln, who after a moment of contemplation, whispered a piece of ”helpful” advice into Marcus’ ear. 

”If you want to dance with her, I’d suggest making it a lot clearer to her that _she_ is the woman you'd like to marry."

Marcus sighed. 

* * *

Mrs Griffin kept onto her word. The very next day a carriage was called two take the two women home despite Lincoln's and Alexandra's objections. Indra could only rein her children in and plan ahead.

As the servants were packing away the clothing supply of the Griffin ladies, Indra slipped into the guest wing. The maids took no heed to their mistress entering the chamber, so she was able to snatch one of Mrs Griffin’s shawls resting atop the chair with relative ease and disappear out of the door in the blink of an eye. She waited until nightfall when the ladies would be gone to present her findings to the Admiral.

Kane was alone in his study, sulking as it would seem. It had frustrated her that he had stayed in his own quarters as Mrs Griffin and her daughter had left, but she supposed she could not endlessly chastise him for his thick skull, especially when he appeared  to be regretting his decision too, judging by the empty look on his eyes as he stared out of the window to the spot where the carriage escorting the two women had just been. 

Indra whipped the shawl in front of him on the desk.

”Mrs Griffin left this in her room.”

Marcus blinked at the piece of garment. ”Oh?”

”I can only imagine it was  _on purpose_ ,” Indra said with heavy emphasis, pleading Kane to take the hint. 

Her words fell on deaf ears. Kane merely grabbed the shawl and stared down at it in amusement. 

"I’m not surprised she would lose it.”

He slid the sheer material through his fingers with a wistful smile on his face. 

"Back in Sussex there was an abundance of things I had to fetch for her - her hair ribbons, her parasol, once I even had to climb a tree to get back her bonnet. She had ignored my warnings about the wind and had left it rest atop her curls untied... of course it had flown away.”

Marcus’ face slowly fell as he continued looking down at the garment. 

”She mustn’t have many warm shawls like this - she might be shivering right now without it."

”You are awfully considerate of a woman who you claim to care little of."

That made him disregard the piece of garment out of his hands .”If she wants it back she can come to fetch it herself," he said gruffly. 

”So you'll have an excuse to spend time with her alone?" 

That made Marcus furiously leap off from his seat. ”Why does EVERYONE THINK-”

Indra gave his wrist a violent snap with her fan, effectively silencing him. ”Don't raise your voice at me!"

She let out a frustrated puff of air as Marcus rubbed his hand, ashamed. "I’m only asking because you claim to want to associate with more women and obtain a wife, but you refuse to anything to further the cause. You have been invited to countless of dinner parties you have utterly ignored, you didn’t dance a single dance at the ball and didn't as much as look at Miss McIntyre or Miss Fox..."

”They are too young, and the other is engaged as of yesterday."”

”What about Mrs Sidney?”

Kane made a face. ”If it weren’t for my title, she’d take great offense at "dirty French money " even looking at her for  too long."

”Mrs Green?

”Still not over the loss of her husband.”

”Miss Reyes then?”

”Again, too young.”

”She's practically a spinster!”

”She would still be 16 years younger than me. That's too young.”

”Can you even hear yourself? There's always an excuse not to marry. As long as I’ve known you, you have turned down every lady, even heiresses who have thrown themselves at your feet! Is it so ludicrous for me to assume Mrs Griffin, the only woman you ever talk about, is the only one for you?"

Marcus clenched his jaw. "If there's ever a day when I tell you I'm desperately in love with Abigail Griffin, and nothing else will do but her hand in marriage - that very moment I want you to run to my hunting rifle and shoot my brains out.”

Lady Trigeda's brow bounced up. "Is the topic truly that touchy?"

"You don't even have an inkling." Marcus sighed, burying his head in his hands. 

"I- I have a confession to make about the history betweeb her and I”

Here it goes, Indra thought, a thrill of excitement shooting up her spine.  _He's going to reveal the truth now._

 

"I may have given you the impression that Mrs Griffin and I quarreled our whole time together - but that simply isn't true. In the end, we were friends, dearest of friends,” he breathed out.

 

”I could guess something along those lines,” Indra said, disappointed at the reveal. 

"I even used to call her Abby,” Marcus said darkly, as if he was revealing a terrifying, scandalous secret. But there was so deep pain in his voice that Indra didn't have the heart to mock him. 

He continued. "Yesterday on our walk, there was nothing else on my mind than the fact that she was tired. I forced her into the carriage because I yearned nothing more than to give her comfort-

"Like a friend of hers ought to," Indra added. 

"But we haven't been friends for years," Marcus said in anguish. "The way things ended - we should be no more than cold acquaintances. I cannot even think about what happened without ice growing inside my heart."

"But _what_ happened? What made you hate her so?" 

"It doesn't matter what happened. I have a good reason for not breathing a word of it to anyone. Besides, I don't hate her - God have mercy on me, I don't think I could ever have it in me to hate her. She treated me in a way that left lasting scars, and I know with every fibre of my being that I  _should_ hate her, but I can't. Instead, I find myself wanting to sink down onto my knees before her, offering to take all the blame on my shoulders just so that we could be friends again."

"It's because you still care for her," Indra offered. 

"But _why_ do I still care? Why do I want to smile when she smiles, why do I still think there’s no better sound than her laugh, why am I devastated when she seems to be in pain?" Marcus shook his head in anguish. "After all this time...”

Indra grabbed his shoulders firmly. "Now, I want you to get hold of yourself. You are sympathetic to her, and that's perfectly fine. I think _everyone_ who has seen the shabby things she wears pities her. You have two options: you can either stay bitter over the end of your friendship for the rest of your miserable life or work to regain it."

Kane nodded sadly at that. 

"Maybe I can help you with that. But first we need to find you a wife-"

He shook his head vigorously. "No, Mrs Griffin and promise to Jake take priority over that.

Indra smiled tightly at him. "Of course. Can I ask you a question?"

"Ask me anything."

"Is Mrs Griffin more important than being granted your lordship?"

"The title can wait."

"Is she more important than returning home soon?"

"Octavia knows how to do without me."

"So she's more important than anything to you?"

Marcus paused. "I didn't say exactly that-"

"Final question. Have you ever considered introducing her to one of your wealthy, respectable friends as a solution to her situation?"

The deafening silence and the frown on his face said it all. Indra dropped her hands. 

"I have heard enough. I will help you become friends with her again. But you need to follow my advice."

"I will."

"Good. The first step on the road to the renewed affection between you two is returning that shawl to her."

"Now?"

Indra swatted him with her fan again. "Not now! She has just left. You would look like a lovesick puppy by following after her. You will wait a respectable amount of time and then bring it back to her."

"But she'll be cold without it."

"Which means she'll be twice as happy to see you."

Kane looked so endearingly hopeful at the promise that Indra decided to leave him to his ponderings. She felt only a small twinge of guilt at her own machinations as she returned to her own quarters. She didn't exactly want Kane to become only friends with Mrs Griffin - althought she would keep her promise and help him do exactly that. But when that friendship inevitably led to courtship and courtship to matrimony, he couldn't blame Indra. 

It would be his own fault for being so clearly in love with her. 

* * *

”Home, sweet home,” Abby said, carrying their clothing trunk over the threshold with Mrs Byrne. ”Didn’t you miss it, Clarke?”

Clarke looked at their sitting room that was the same size as the garden shed in Polis Park. The girl's face fell.

”I’ll be in my room,” she announced and with that, she had dashed upstairs. Abby let the trunk hit the floor with a thump and watched her daughter go, frowning.  _Maybe someday she'll have something so grand that she'll to look back at our little cottage with warmth,_ Abby thought as Miss Jackson came into view.

"Give me some goods news," Abby said after seeing the maid with a letter tray in her hands. 

The serious look on Jackson's face said it all.

"Mr Jaha's son is returning from Oxford. He wants to celebrate the occassion with a dinner party - you and Clarke are naturally invited."

Abby snatched the letter out of the tray. "We stayed at Polis Park for a week, surely the invitation has already expired. 

"No, it came this morning."

Abby let out a groan.

Dinner parties with Mr Jaha were the most insufferable but vital parts of keeping a roof of their heads. Ever since his wife's death, he had liked to invite Clarke and Abby to dine with him as often as he could. Such occassions had to be braced through with a forced smile - anything less would make him less obliging to them. After all, Abby was so behind in rent she ashamed to even look at him into the eye without radiating gratitude. 

Someday, she would have so much rent money saved up she could decline at least once. It was one of her dearest dreams. 

The invitation was set for next week, and Abby wrote up a polite acceptance note she sent out with Jackson. After that, all was left to do was to wait for the date in dread.

Just as she got out of one nightmare scenario, the next one followed. It made her consider whether she would rather spend the night with Admiral Kane or Mr Jaha. Being in the same room with the Admiral was suffocating, and made her heart shrink into a tiny ball of pain her chest, but at least he'd rather set himself in fire than make physical advances on her like Mr Jaha. 

Abby would have to go with the former. 

The day they'd have to go see Mr Jaha, Clarke looked like she was marching to her funeral. 

"I was planning on going to the town today. Miss Alexandra implied in her letter she'd be there," she said sadly. 

"Implication is not an invitation. We express grear gratitude towards Mr Jaha by honouring his wishes that we attend at his dinner party."

Clarke scoffed. "And what dinner party will that be! I bet we are the only guests."

"Clarke, please."

"Why not? He thrives on making us uncomfortable, why invite others to disturb?"

Clarke seemed to have been right. As they arrived at his mansion house they were no carriages indicating other guests in sight. It made Abby's stomach give a nervous lurch. At least they were greeted by Wells Jaha - a young, good-natured man who couldn't be more different from his father.

"Clarke!" he smiled and went immediately to shake her hand. "It's been years!"

"Look at how you've grown!" Clarke exclaimed, disregarding his hand and embracing him instead. "I hardly recognized you, you weasel!"

Abby had seen Wells Jaha the last time when he was just a ten-year-old boy, the only boy willing to play with the poor little Clarke who had just lost her father. A little after they had become playmates, Mr Jaha had sent him to Eton which sadly forced the friendship between the two children to blossom only through letters. The young man seemed as amiable as ever - and looked handsome too. 

Abby expressed this aloud in order to tease him. The boy looked down at his feet with a shy smile, until a hand lowered on his shoulder startled it off. His father had appeared behind his back. 

"Stand up straight, Wells. We have visitors."

"Yes, father," Mr Wells said in a quiet voice. 

Just as Abby had feared, she and Clarke were the only guests. Still, Mr Jaha found a way to seat his son and Clarke as far from each other as possible and arranged so that Abby was right next to him so Abby could hear every oppressive draw of breath he took. They were somehow even louder than the chatter between Clarke and Mr Wells. 

"More boiled potatoes, Mrs Griffin?" Mr Jaha asked. 

"No thank you," Abby said quickly. 

"I could take one-" Mr Wells tried, but Mr Jaha had already set the dish aside. 

"How's Oxford?" Abby asked the boy in order to avoid any private conversation Mr Jaha could attempt to raise with her. 

"It's alright, but I do prefer country life-"

"My son has been at the top of his peers as long as he has studied there. I have had letters from professors stating that he is a remarkable young man, and that he excels in governance and trade just like his father before him."

"Father-"

"He will have a seat at House of Commons in due time. England hasn't borne a single gentleman more deserving of that rank - certainly compared to his classmates. Those overtly modern, drunkard brats should have been sent to France as canon fodder when the war had still been going on. Mr Murphy, for example, showcases everything wrong with the current generation. Wells, tell them what he did."

"He set the headmaster's coat on fire after he made fun of a servant girl with a hand deformity."

"I didn't mean that, although the incident does tell a lot about his disturbing character. I'm talking about the thing he said about  _me._ Repeat it.

_"_ But there are ladies present..."

"I said,  _repeat it."_

Wells sighed. "He said that my father had his head so far up his own, umm, rear that everything he spouts out is inevitably, uh, donkey feces."

Clarke let out a faint giggle, forcing Abby to give her daughter a small kick under the table. 

"Suffice to say, Mr Murphy won't be joining my son for his Grand Tour or socialising with him in any manner," Mr Jaha said. 

Mr Wells looked rather sad about the fact. Abby leaned to whisper some comfort into his ear as Mr Jaha engaged Clarke in a conversation of all the qualities of Mr Murphy she should avoid in her search for a husband. 

"I hope you have fun traveling across Europe, regardless," Abby whispered. 

Wells flashed him a weak smile. "Thank you, but I have always wished I could just skip the Tour. Father wants me to go to East Indies too so I can learn how to manage our property there. I don't think I'm quite ready for that."

"It is good practice for when you inherit the estate."

Mr Wells looked sadly down at that. "Truth to be told, I've never really wanted to follow father's footsteps. I've actually always wanted to be a clergyman."

"Clergyman?"

Mr Wells gave a slight smile. "Yes. I've always dreamed of a small, serene little parish somewhere far from everything, with my own little congregation to herd. I'm not asking much, just a few friends and a wife that genuinely like me, and not only because my father is rich and influential. Now that I've completed my studies I could be ordained - but father would never approve. And since it's impossible for me to find a patron on my own, I think I have to give up on that silly little dream."

Before Abby could offer Mr Wells an encouraging word or two, Mr Jaha spoke up. "Mrs Griffin! Your daughter is telling me her dear friend is in town today. Is this true?"

Abby blinked in surprise. "Yes, she said something about Miss Woods going to the shops today."

"Then it's a great injustice to hold her in this stuffy place when she could be having fun with her friend! I shall send her on her way immediately - Wells, wouldn't you like to join her? You should see how the place has changed since the last time you were here."

Abby was pleasantly surprised that Mr Jaha would approve their friendship to such an extent that he would allow them to walk to the town alone together - until he hastily continued. 

"However, I'll send Charlotte with you to fetch the mail - so don't get any ideas," he said sternly to his son. 

"Yes, father," Mr Wells said submissively.

Abby grit her teeth in her desperate attempt to keep smiling. Mr Jaha obviously saw no harm in pursuing women of lower class himself, but he wouldn't allow his son to even walk to the town alone with a girl like Clarke. What did he expect? Wells' childhood friend trying to cheat him off his fortune by seducing him the moment they were alone together? 

Abby was so preoccupied with her mean thoughts about Mr Jaha that she only realised the man in question was orchestrating Abby be alone with him when Clarke practically leaped off her seat out of excitement to leave. Abby shot a pleading look at her daughter, but the girl was too excited at the prospect of seeing Miss Woods to notice the terrified expression on her mother's face. 

"Come," Clarke said to Mr Wells. "TonDC sure isn't London but I bet you have never seen such a charming, peaceful place before!"

Mr Wells beamed at the description. Mr Jaha went to get his maid and saw the young people off while Abby waited in the dining room, fraught with fear. She quickly devised a plan to escape out of the back entrance; She would leave before anyone noticed and send an apology note later where she would blame a sudden fit of migraine. 

However, just as she set on her way, Mr Jaha returned to her.

"Ah, you were heading to the gardens? What a splendid idea, the day has never been more beautiful."

He captured Abby into the crook of his arm and started escorting her out. Abby wouldn't have been able to flee now even if she had wanted to. His grip was too strong. 

Once they were in the gardens, Abby tried to think of a neutral topic of discussion. Any topic would do, absolutely anything that would keep Mr Jaha from talking about far more uncomfortable matters.

"The roses are beautiful this year," Abby said hastily. 

_"_ Just like you," Mr Jaha said in a honeyed voice. 

_Dear god._ He wasn't planning on skirting the subject at all. 

"Oh please," Abby said, flustered. She forced herself to look anywhere but him. "The frogs in the pond are certainly croaking happily today," she tried again. 

"I can think of a way you could make this old toad happy as well."

As Abby contemplated the preferability of drowning herself in the pond rather than letting Mr Jaha continue, he suddenly grabbed her hand. 

"Abigail..."

Abby froze in terror.

"I think I saw a mouse go under that bush," she babbled on." Would you catch it for me, please? I'm awfully afraid of mice-"

"No need to be coy with me anymore! You must be aware of my wishes towards you by now."

"I certainly am not," Abby said, seeking out an escape route. His grip of her hand tightened. 

"I've desired you from the _moment_ I set my eyes on you."

Abby was straining her neck in order to avoid looking at him. "Mr Jaha,  _please._ You're talking nonsense. You have only been a widower for half a year."

"You ought to take it as a compliment. I couldn't help but admire you from afar as long as I could remember, even knowing how lowly and  _unsuitable_ you were. But I can't fight any longer. Now, my dearest, I can finally-"

"I think I need to sit down," Abby hastened to say. "I'm not feeling too well." This time, every word was true. After all, her worst nightmare was coming true.

'Of course. My offer is making you feel faint. You are too modest!" 

Mr Jaha led her to a bench and let her sit down, only to squeeze as close to her as it was humanly possible. At least he didn't try to speak, instead settling for staring at her gleefully as if they were already in perfect understanding with each other. Abby wiped some sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand, pondering over her options. 

If she refused, she and Clarke couldn't stay. The man would probably demand all of the due rent before kicking them out which would take all of Abby's scarce savings and force her to let Jackson and Mrs Byrne go. She would be left with no money to find a new place. Abby got so little interest out of her dowry there was no place in England that would be willing to put a house over her daughter's head for that amount of money. 

Perhaps Clarke could be lucky and be able to get a governess' position after some time, but Abby could never doom her daughter into that kind of poor, lonely line of work for the rest of her life. Then, Clarke's only chance at a future would be a good match, but even that was uncertain. Sir Lincoln's interest might only be fleeting. 

Abby knew what to do in order to ensure Clarke all the happiness in the world. If she accepted, Clarke would have as many seasons in London as she desired. She would have a dowry that would make men like Sir Lincoln not even think twice about pursuing her. She could live comfortably for the rest of her life. Abby would only have to say yes...

She felt tears welling up in her eyes which Mr Jaha unfortunately noticed. 

"My Abigail, are those tears of happiness? I knew you would understand me!" Mr Jaha drew him into a passionate embrace. Abby was so numb she went along with it without a single objection. Mr Jaha grabbed her jaw and tilted it towards him. Abby pinched her eyes shut. She prepared herself for his wet, cold lips smacking against her own - until he suddenly withdrew. 

"Ah, I was not expecting more visitors - how did you get here?" Mr Jaha asked.

Abby was confused for a moment until she realized he was talking to someone that was standing behind them.

"Your footman said Mrs Griffin could be found here," said the familiar hoarse voice. 

Abby lifted her teary eyes and saw none other than  _Marcus_  standing by the gate, clutching something against his chest. It looked like it was her shawl that had been missing ever since her stay at Polis Park _._ His expression was of pure, inexplicable anguish as he gazed at Abby wrapped up in Mr Jaha's embrace. His shoulders were hunched as if he had suffered a violent blow.

"I apologize for intruding. I can come back later," he said in a weak, defeated voice. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaha gets a rival.

Marcus was advancing across Mr Jaha's grounds with heavy, almost aggressive strides. The faster he got back to his horse and rode away from this godforsaken place, the better. He could barely see in front of him because of the furious haze that had shrouded his vision. Thus, not much later his boot struck painfully against a rock on the road. He let out a loud, vile curse at the skies as if the world itself was against him. It felt like it was. He squeezed the sheer piece of fabric in his hands that belonged to Abby, at the same time wanting to shred it into pieces while also yearning to smooth it out against his palm and enjoy the softness of something that once had enveloped Abby's bare, bronzed shoulders.

There was a vicious burning behind his eyelids again he had tried to suppress from the moment he had taken in the sight of Abby in her lover's arms. He hadn't been able to understand the sensations wreaking his body at that point on. He abhorred the very idea of her taking someone like Mr Jaha as her husband, but it was not as if it affected his life in any way. The news whether she was miserable or ecstatic in her second union wouldn't even reach his ears once he was back in Derbyshire. 

Still, he yearned to run back to her, yell at her,  _shake her_ , forbid her from marrying Mr Jaha. He'd do anything to stop it from happening. However, he had little say in Abby's - Mrs Griffin's decisions. None at all, in reality. He had lost the privilege of her wanting to listen to what he had to say a long time ago.

"Admiral!" he heard from behind him.

He turned his head in the direction of the familiar, feminine voice and saw Mrs Griffin walking briskly towards him, holding up her skirts with her hand. She looked distressed about something which made him hopeful for a second. Was she hurrying to him in order to explain that the scene in the garden was just a horrible misunderstanding? Perhaps it hadn't been a lovers' embrace he had witnessed, but something else entirely.

Such hopes were quickly cut off when she came to him and reached her hand out to him. 

"I won't let you walk away with my only shawl," she huffed. "I need it."

Marcus' heart grew cold. He laid his eyes on the sheer little thing he was still clutching in his hands. Abby grabbed the fabric, trying to snatch it to herself out Marcus' hand. His iron grip didn't yield.

"Are congratulations in order?" he asked gruffly.

In response, Mrs Griffin gave him a sharp glare. "May I have my shawl back?"

"Not until you tell me if I should wish you joy or not."

Mrs Griffin bowed her head down. She took a deep, shuddering breath while keeping her eyes locked on the ground. "You may do so," she eventually said in a barely audible voice. 

Sheshot her head back up, startled, as Marcus lowered the garment on her shoulders. He tugged it in its place and then tenderly tied the edges into a loose knot. After the deed was done, his hand lingered on her thin arm without any conscious decision. 

"Congratulations," he said with a colourless voice. Mrs Griffin looked at his fingers that were still curled around her shawl-veiled arm before lifting her gaze to meet his. 

"You needn't concern yourself with trivialities like returning my clothing in the future," she said poignantly.

"Yes, of course. Why bother about such silly little things as your old worn garments? With a man like Jaha as your husband you can have as many shawls as you want, silken, cashmere, trimmed with lace even," he spat out.

Only then when Mrs Griffin lifted her gaze did Marcus notice the red puffiness of her eyes. "Indeed, I'm only marrying the man for the shawls" she spat out.

Crushing guilt washed over him as he watched her cheeks glistening with scarcely dried tears. How long had her spirits been this low and why had he not noticed? 

"You're upset," he stated, dumbfounded.

"You have a keen eye." 

With that said, Mrs Griffin turned on her heel and marched into the other direction. The sight of her walking away elicited raw, deep pain in his chest Marcus thought had long left him. He had not seen her cry since...

His feet faltered after her almost out of their own accord. "Forgive me, I spoke brashly," he called out after her.

Mrs Griffin not answer and only hastened her steps which didn't surprise him. He continued. 

"I shouldn't have assumed you were marrying him only for the money. You must have your reasons, good reasons for I know you're a sensible woman that doesn't make decisions like this lightly. In case there's affection between you two-" The words tasted venomous in his throat, and it proved taxing to choke them out. "I wish you all the happiness."

Mrs Griffin remained silent for a long time, and for the duration of it the only sound he could hear was the rustling of her skirts and the dry leaves cracking under his shoes as he followed her, until a soul-wrenchingly strangled sob escaped from her. His heart plummeted. 

In an instant, Marcus was by her side, clasping her thin wrist in his hand. "Abby, what's wrong?"

"Nothing of any consequence to you, Admiral. You ought to return to Polis Park now."

"I shan't before I know why you have been crying. Is the reason me?"

"Don't flatter yourself. Please, let go of me before Mr Jaha becomes suspicious."

The fearful way Abby said the man's name darkened his soul. He still held onto her hand gently, but insistently.

"You must think me quite a fool to allow you to go back to the man that had made you weep so."

" _Marcus_ , please!"

"Did he hurt you? Has he forced his hands on you?"

Abby shook her head, more tears springing into her eyes. 

Marcus' mind rushed through several possible reasons for her distress until the most obvious one presented itself. He wanted to kick himself for not seeing through her eyes sooner.

"Was his proposal unwelcome?"

Abby said nothing, but her expression told him everything. 

"But you felt obliged to accept?" He asked, studying her eyes for a confirmation. After a few moments filled with anguished silence Abby nodded slowly and then turned her face away from him. 

"He's my landlord. It's merely a sensible arrangement for me and my daughter," she said, sounding distant. 

A rush of pure, unadulterated rage flooded his veins, red-hot and sizzling at the man who had dared to put Abby in this position.

"How much do you owe him?" he asked, barely able to contain the fury in his voice. 

Abby snatched her hand away from him. "Why? So you can feel sorry for me?"

"Not exactly," Marcus admitted, already digging up his cheque book from his coat pocket. 

Abby's eyes widened and she took a step back from him. "You may not!"

"Would you rather accept my help or marry that horrid fool?" Marcus spat out.

Abby did not answer, so he proceeded in writing out his cheque with a sigh. 

"This sum ought to cover whatever you owe and the rent for the next decade or so." He ripped out the page and showed it to Abby who visibly paled.

"Please don't force me to accept that," she said, voice trembling. 

"Either you accept it or I will present it to Mr Jaha myself. I shall also remind him that if he gives you any trouble even after receiving the cheque, I'm obliged to challenge him. That ought to silence him-

He cut his speech sort as noticed Abby had started to weep. Her sobs were quiet but shook her whole frail body. His heart teared apart at the sight. Suddenly, she was no longer the insufferably stubborn Mrs Griffin, she was _his_ Abby, in need of a comforter. He was overwhelmed by the urge to embrace her, wipe away her tears, tangle his fingers in her hair and kiss her skin as he had done when they were dearest of friends.

He took a step towards her only for Abby to take one back. "You enjoy tormenting me, don't you?," she asked, sniffing. "You're a cruel man, Admiral."

Marcus was taken aback. Abby was glaring at him through her tears, having drawn herself to her full length. She couldn't reach his jaw, but even with small frame, her eyes wet and cheeks red, she was something mighty to behold. His resolve softened.

"Oh Abby, When have I ever been cruel to you?" Marcus asked softly. 

"When you came here, _Admiral_. When you kneeled for me and tried to push me money."

Marcus still couldn't understand the reason for her distress. Certainly, he hadn't acted in the most discreet of ways in his efforts to help her, but all the assistance was in dire need and Abby should know that. "Tell me why you won't let me help you," he insisted. "I know there must be a reason."

You know why," she said, her cheeks flared red. She turned her eyes away. "I won't take your money, and I won't partake in your vengeance."

_Vengeance?_

Suddenly he understood. Abby had to feel so wounded even after two decades that she couldn't see an act of kindness from the man she had slighted as anything other than a vicious attack against her dignity. 

"Good god Abby, I did not come here with a single mission of humiliating you!" Marcus couldn't help but raise his voice, so upset he felt at the face of such a misjudgment. 

"Then why did you come?"

"I told you, for Jake!" he shouted.

"Do you hold a grudge against him too? Is this your way to feel superior to him? I know we both wronged you, but retribution can't possibly bring you any further joy! He is dead and I'm poor and miserable, what more you do want?"

"Good god woman! your pride is distorting everything! I have held no grudges, I'm here to care for you as Jake as he wished. Do you really think of me as cold-hearted I wouldn't honour that promise when it was presented to me on his death bed?"

"You held no grudges? He passed away eight years ago and only now are you here," Abby objected. 

Marcus did not know how to answer for a moment. Surely, she had to know why he hadn't come. Even when he had made amends with Jake after ten years of shame and misery he didn't feel he had any right to come for Abby. She had to understand that. 

"I couldn't exactly show my face anywhere near Sussex after I had left," he decided to say.

The pain hanging in the air was palpable. Abby bowed her head in shame, and Marcus felt slightly guilty for reminding her of the atrocious means she and Jake had to resort to in order to save her. He hastened to continue. "Besides, I thought you were well off. Jake was the wealthiest man I knew, and I believed you would have - plenty other people caring for you. If I'd had even an inkling that it was not the case...

"I've survived well on my own. Considering what happened, Jake should never have-"

"That is true," Marcus admitted. Eight years ago, Marcus had received a letter from Jake that had called him to Caribbean with great haste. When he had arrived, it had almost been too late. Jake was sick with yellow fever and was only barely able to give Marcus his forgiveness before making his inexplicable request to care for his widow. Even now Marcus couldn't understand what the man had been thinking. His words may have been purely delirious for all he knew. However, he still felt bound by that promise.

"But still I came. Not to retribute, not to gloat, only to perform my duty."

"I see that now." Abby looked thoughtful. It was as if her mind was racing through other motivations for Marcus to have come for her. After all, their mutual, nonverbal agreement to never see each other again after that fateful day in the harbour had been breached the moment he had set foot in Hertfordshire. "I'm the duty you need to fulfil so you can finally cleanse your conscience," she eventually stated. 

The words tore at his soul because they were true. At least they had been, many years ago at dying Jake's bedside. But now, looking at the teary-eyed woman who had once held his heart in her hands, he was no longer sure whether this trip was honour-bound or just a exquisitive method of torturing himself. 

He could only present her with an answer that felt the most true to his heart. "Abby, have you ever considered that no decision is that simple? Whether or not I had a duty over you, do you really think I could live with myself if I let you to live in near poverty for the rest of your life? Or doom you into a miserable marriage? You used to be my best friend for crying out loud!"

Abby looked shocked at the words. It was as if Marcus actually caring for her wellbeing  was the last option she could ever have considered. Her mouth formed a little 'o' which softened his heart. 

"Oh," was the only sound she could muster. 

"Oh indeed," Marcus smiled weakly. 

"You were my best friend too, Marcus," she answered tentatively, as if she wasn't sure if it was the right thing to say in this situation. "But can you fault me for thinking your reason for coming here could only vengeful? Good gracious, you had every right to be bitter."

"You forget that I had my own share of blame. Perhaps all of it." 

Abby shook her head weakly, wiping her eyes. "No, nothing could ever excuse the way I treated you."

"You and Jake did the right thing," Marcus murmured. In his heart, he knew it to be true even immediately after the grueling events that had transpired twenty years ago. He could only blame himself for all the pain, humiliation and shame in the end, even if Abby at times had been a tempting target for his anger. She was not innocent either, but he was the true monster of the story. 

"But-"

"We don't have to talk about it." Marcus suspected that it would just be too painful for them both to revisit the events, especially now that Abby had started quietly crying again. Marcus tenderly hushed her, clasping her hand within his.

"Please, don't think of me as the bitter, enraged man you imagined me to be after all these years. Think of me as your friend Marcus - as if nothing ever happened. Could you do that?"

Abby nodded, letting out a sniffle. Marcus knew how much she hated crying in front of others which only made the sight more heartbreaking.

"In honour of that friendship we once had, let me help you," Marcus pleaded.

Abby shot a desperate look up at him "Please, I can't accept any money from you. It would be wrong."  

Marcus was starting to understand her viewpoint. She still had to be as full of shame as him and accepting such charity would only pierce her conscience.

"Is there any other way I could help free you from Mr Jaha?" Marcus asked.

Abby struggled collect herself enough to state the unforgiving truth in as emotionless manner as possible. "I don't think nothing else will save me and Clarke but acceptance to his proposal."

Again, anger flooded his veins. He knew the ways of such men. Mr Jaha knew that a poor widow like Abby who was living in his land couldn't refuse him even if she wanted to, so the decision to pursue her had been made, and only a few months after his wife's death.

"Let me take care of it."

Abby's brow knotted in the familiar stubborn manner that he had used to think as both endearing and maddening. "I don't think that's wise," she objected. "There's little you can do for me in the bounds of cordiality."

"I won't try to bribe him or challenge him, if that's what you're afraid of. I just want to talk to him, but only with your permission. May I help you, Abby?"

Abby looked him in the eye, anguished, until she saw no other alternative but to yield and nod. 

"Very well," Marcus said, softening his tone. "With all the might I have, I promise you won't have to marry him." He considered giving her hand a friendly squeeze to ease her concerns, but decided against it in the fear of being too forward. Instead, he offered her his handkerchief to dry her tears before releasing her and turning around to walk back to Arkadia Hall. 

He was grateful for the good weather. He would've hated to face Mr Jaha with a cane in his hand since all of his imposing stature would be needed for _persuading_ him. Marcus was not exactly sure what he would say to him now that money was off the table, but he would certainly be able to think of a way to safeguard Abby that would leave Mr Jaha _relatively_ unharmed. 

Truly, would do the same for any other woman in a plight. 

* * *

Abby sought refuge under the leaves of a nearby maple tree after Marcus had left. She wanted to be hidden by the leaves in case Mr Jaha stormed out to look for her, and she desperately needed a place to dry her cheeks, arrange her hair and dab her eyes with Marcus' handkerchief until they lost their puffiness and crimson colour. 

How she hated herself for crying in front of Marcus! Besides for the vulnerability it had now revealed to him, the sight of her tears had always made him do something foolish like rush to confront Mr Jaha. Inexplicably, the effect didn't seem to have faded even after twenty years of grudge. 

At least, she had assumed he still held a grudge. The cold treatment he had this far directed towards her had suggested so - but nothing in the way he had conducted himself today after discovering the reason for her distress was aloof. He had been angry for her, admitted an ounce of care for her future and gone as far as to promise to help her by any means necessary. She mustn't read too much into it, however, for he had always been a man of honour, first and foremost. 

He claimed not to have been bitter which she found impossible to believe. She had been angry at him for a long time even though she felt her own decision had been the one to curse them both - so she could only imagine how great his resentment had been. However, it gave her immeasurable relief to hear him say she had done the right thing. Everyone else who knew about the unfortunate events had told her so, but she could believe the words if they came from his lips. 

Perhaps, just perhaps it had been a good thing that he had come. Abby now had a small amount of proof he didn't loathe her body and soul, and if all went well, he would be able to somehow convince Mr Jaha to back off. The normalcy of her life would be soon restored  after Marcus had found a wife and left Hertfordshire, but now she could enjoy a new peace of mind; the man she had dearly loved did not wish her harm. 

Marcus took his time. When the sun had drifted behind the looming silhouette of the mansion house, she began to grow concerned. She hoped he hadn't gotten himself into any trouble, especially for her sake. Persuading Mr Jaha to withdraw his proposition couldn't be a simple task, and Abby wasn't sure whether it was possible at all which would likely upset Marcus who was so insistent on doing her this service. Thus, she worried.

When the footsteps and growing figure of the man finally reached her senses, Abby hurried to receive him. The man was trotting towards her with all the nonchalance in the world, even halting to tip his hat at her with bright eyes.  Abby's heart leaped in relief at his good mood.

"Tell me at once what he said?" she hastened to say.

A small, barely noticeable smile spread over Marcus' features. "You are free as a bird."

Abby was overwhelmed by the sudden urge to throw her arms around him, but she survived that couple seconds of madness with her dignity intact. Still, she was unabashedly beaming at him and wringing her hands for the lack of better things to do with them. "But how?" she asked. 

A slightly uneasy expression fell on his face next. "From now on, it is vital for you to avoid Mr Jaha for some time now. Do not accept his invitations or let him call on you. You ought to be as unavailable as possible."

Abby crossed her arms, her countenance turning serious. "What do you mean? What did you say to him?"

Marcus looked poignantly at her. "I know how fiery you get when you lose your temper, Abby. I need you to keep yourself calm while I explain, if that's alright?"

Abby nodded apprehensively. 

Marcus sighed as if bracing himself. 

"I told Mr Jaha you had given me a great deal of encouragement. And that I had made you a counter-offer right after you had rushed away from him for your shawl."

At first, Abby's jaw fell open. Then, she studied Marcus' eyes for any sign of jest. He only looked back at her in earnest. Finally, she snapped. 

"I GAVE YOU ENCOURAGEMENT?!"

Marcus took a step closer. "I knew you would make a fuss! Let me expain myself-"

"Which part made you think I was begging for a proposal? All those coquettishly frosty looks I shot you across the dinner table in Polis Park? My curt replies to you which could only be read as born out of undying adoration? Perhaps the way I always rebuffed your offers of assistance were my biggest giveaway as the biggest flirt in the town-"

"I obviously lied to him," Marcus cut in.  "As I have not actually made a proposal to you," he drawled. He took another step closer. Abby now became aware of his proximity, petrifying her in his place. He was not actually going to...?

She could see the lines around his eyes where there had been none before and a few silver strands in his curly hair. It was curious how age had made him only more handsome. She followed his strong. bearded jaw to his Adam's apple which she fixated on. It bopped when Marcus swallowed as if he was considering his next words with the uttermost care. She was half terrified he would follow with the word "yet", and half consumed with a whole another inexplicable emotion at the thought. She had to put a stop to this, Marcus couldn't be too foolish to solve a case of an unsolicited proposal by adding another one on top of it. He couldn't, he just couldn't, she would be the last woman in the whole world he'd think that way even with the most honourable of intentions. 

"And you shan't!" Abby eventually mustered, frightened. 

Marcus clenched his eyes closed for a long moment before answering. "I wasn't actually planning on doing that either."

"Good," Abby said, awkwardly shuffling with her hands until deciding to place them on her hips. 

"Hear me out my before fretting. There was no other way I could let you go free; Mr Jaha immediately started objecting as I attempted to explain why you had ran off. He thought I was lying for the sake of my own selfish purposes which gave me an idea - the only way Mr Jaha could let you keep your home is the uncertainty of your answer. As long as he thinks you might still say yes, he'll let you stay. I simply stated that I was in love with you and couldn't bear the thought of you marrying anyone else, so I had proposed the moment I got you alone. I told him that you were too bewildered by the two proposals you had received that you had escaped - but only after telling me you needed time to consider."

There was some familiar boyish charm in the way he smiled at her next which made her heart flutter. "...A long, long, long time to consider during which he shouldn't disturb you in any way."

Abby looked at him in astonishment. She now saw how the lie Marcus had hatched was the only solution to the situation and was embarrassed for not thinking of something similar sooner. She could have lied that just about anyone had proposed to her as well and as long as Mr Jaha was foolish enough not to question it, she would be safe. It was truly unfortunate that Marcus had put himself in the line for her only because she had been too distressed to think of a clever solution like that.

"But how did he react?"

The corner of Marcus' mouth twitched. "He looked like he was about to attack me. He only barely managed to restrain himself from throttling me, settling for throwing me out of his house and calling me a wicked scoundrel for trying to steal his woman."

Abby would've gladly emptied her little purse just to see that scene! Her heart was filling with the most earnest glee and gratitude.

"You have done me the greatest of services!"

"I'm glad I could prove myself useful even without my money you so fervently resent," he said, looking distinctly delighted at Abby's joy. He only frowned after Abby's face had suddenly and utterly fallen the very next moment. 

"But wait, this utterly hinders your search for a wife!" she exclaimed. "You cannot court nor even be seen near any other lady or tongues will wag, and Mr Jaha realises that your offer was empty!"

Marcus looked nonplussed. "Finding a wife is hardly my top priority," he said, little confused about how Abby could even get distraught about such a thing. 

She knotted her brow at his utter nonchalance. No wonder he wasn't married if he put so little value on the matter. She hadn't exactly seen or heard him express any interest in the local ladies either. But after all, he was a man - he could never get married or push the matter to the end of time if he so wished.  As a woman, It was hard not to get at least a little irritated at the fact.

"What if you want to return home?"

"If I do so, I'll make it known to everyone I'm still eagerly expecting your acceptance and will return here as soon as possible again."

"But the situation cannot remain forever like this, you must understand so!"

Marcus flashed her a smile that expressed no worry in the world. "I'll think of something. The most important thing is that Mr Jaha is left without no answer and you remain free."

Abby's eyes started to burn again. This time, she forced the tears back in.

 "Thank you," she whispered.

"It is of no consequence to me."

 _But it is_ , Abby thought. It was a terrible position to be put in, he would be subjected to all kinds of gossip and ridicule as soon as Mr Jaha's servants had spread the word of the fight between the two gentlemen. Marcus had to be aware of the consequences too, but still, he had helped her in a way not even the gentlemen Abby considered friends would have done. For the world, she would probably never understand what drove him so.

"I still cannot believe you would be so kind to me. After everything-"

"All is forgotten," Marcus said kindly, then lightened his tone in order to ease her worries. "Look at me. You truly did no harm. I've had my fair share of success, I'm healthy, cheerful, and devastatingly handsome as ever," he quipped. Abby couldn't help but give a little laugh.

"And full of yourself as it would seem," she said, voice full of mirth. It was so easy to slide back into this comfortable playfulness as if no time had passed. God knows how she had missed it. 

_How she missed him as well._

Marcus feigned to take great offence at her reply. "Such a thing to say to a friend!"

"And I thought you had no wish to renew our friendship?" Abby teased, then immediately turned serious as she remembered their conversation in the Polis Park parlour. Some harsh words had been exchanged and she wasn't certain if Marcus wished to recall them. 

Marcus looked remorseful for a moment and studied her features for signs of animosity but seemed to find none because his expression softened again. 

"Let's call it an armistice," he said gently, acknowledging the unsuitability of the word _friendship_. She wasn't ready for such intimacy with him yet, but just having him back in her life would do more than well. 

"May I see you back to your cottage?" he then asked tentatively.

Abby smiled. "You may."

* * *

Marcus felt slightly melancholic as he walked with Abby in a soothing silence. Perhaps if he had just come for her immediately and hadn't waited for eight years, he could have enjoyed her approval much sooner. He hadn't even realised how he had yearned to see her eyes shine again as she looked up at him. 

_Then again, I could have enjoyed her friendship for twenty years now if I hadn't been foolish enough destroy it all,_ Marcus thought darkly.

He turned around at the gentle sensation of something being lowered on his arm. His lips parted as he took in the beautiful sight. Abby's delicate, graceful fingers were resting on his sleeve with the light tenderness of a feather. Abby had her eyes turned coyly away, as if she wasn't sure if her bold touch would be welcomed or not. Marcus' answer was covering her hand with his own and offering her a soft smile.

Abby smiled back at him shyly. They walked together in silence, neither of them daring to voice their thoughts in the fear of their fragile happiness shattering. After only a quarter-mile, Marcus was firmly of the opinion that there was no sensation more exquisite than her little hand tenderly lowered on his arm. 

There was a nagging voice in his head, saying that the only way the moment could be more perfect was if he'd taken off his gloves earlier and placed his fingers on top of Abby's bare, unprotected hand. The thought came to him unbidden, and he disregarded it as quickly as it had come, ashamed of his depraved mind.  

"Will I see you tomorrow, Admiral?" Abby asked softly.

Marcus was so deep in thought about the pleasure of her proximity that he started at the sudden address. "Tomorrow?"

"There is a military regiment marching into the town. Clarke and I will go to observe. Perhaps your party also wants to come...?

"I will be there," Marcus replied without delay. The fact that she wanted him to come would be enough to send him wobbling to the town with his cane even in the case of rain. Lady Trigeda would probably subject him to endless ridicule for his sudden interest in the regiment, but Marcus had _just_ gotten Abby back and would now have to make twenty years worth of opportunities to spend time with her. 

"I'm glad, Admiral."

"Now we are back to Admiral?" Marcus couldn't help but tease.

There was a warm blush on Abby's cheeks as she looked down. "You know I can't call you Marcus in public."

"What public?" Marcus asked, only to turn his head and notice that they were already on Abby's tiny patch of land. Her maid had apparently been hanging the laundry in the yard but had halted at the sight of Marcus walking with Abby in his arm and could now only gape at them with a wet apron forgotten in her hands. Marcus offered her a curt nod which made the young woman regain her senses. She scurried inside after throwing an oddly disapproving look at Marcus.

Marcus hated how short the walk had been now that Abby was forced to relinquish his arm. "Farewell," she bid him, and Marcus reluctantly replied with his own goodbye. 

He watched Abby walk into her tiny cottage until she disappeared behind the door, causing his shoulders to slump. _Tomorrow_ , he encouraged himself as he turned to return home.  He set out on a long walk back to his horse he had left in the complete opposite direction. 

Despite the long journey, he found himself whistling for the first time in nearly a decade.

* * *

Lady Trigeda immediately ambushed Marcus as he returned to Polis Park. He had hoped she would have already retired to bed, but to no avail. She had been waiting up on him, understandbly so for Marcus had told her he would only go bring Abby back her shawl, but that simple task had taken hours. She must be expecting some great news. 

"You're smiling like a man who has just earned his lady's favour."

"Indeed, I have," Marcus smiled. Lady Trigeda's brow shot up. 

"Is it what I think it is? Should I wish you joy?"

Marcus frowned. "I knew you would jump to such conclusions. It was nothing of the sort. The reason I'm happy is because we were reconciled after all these years. In due time, I can call Mrs Griffin my friend again."

Lady Trigeda crossed her arms, her brow furrowed. "All because of the shawl?"

"No, something much greater was required to win her approval."

Marcus told her about Mr Jaha's proposition and how he had tricked him into thinking he was competing for Abby's hand as well, and how she sweetly she had beheld him afterwards. For some reason, lady Trigeda's countenance only darkened as he kept going which puzzled him. Hadn't she wished for Marcus to regain her friendship? 

"So Mrs Griffin and I reached a friendly agreement," Marcus smiled at the end of his story. 

"Only you could call an engagement to marry a "friendly" agreement," Lady Trigeda said, pinching the bridge of her nose with her eyes clenched shut as if she was in great pain. He could not understand why.

He tried to explain again. "I am not engaged to her, I am merely bound to her by my proposal of marriage."

"For god's sake, Kane-"

Lady Trigeda appeared to be too angry to even finish the sentence. The next words she wheezed out. "Even you cannot be so foolish not to understand what kind of hole you have just dug yourself into!"

Marcus took offence in her harsh words. "There is nothing foolish about helping a woman in a distress!"

"It is, if it compromises your own happiness! If I am wrong, and pray to god I'm not, and you truly do not love her or wish to marry her, you're in deep trouble. How did you not realise that there is no honourable way you can avoid marrying her now?"

"Huh?"

"Think about it. If you withdraw your proposal, Mrs Griffin will be humiliated and forced to marry Mr Jaha regardless. Even if you don't, you cannot keep her dangling between you two forever, and eventually she will have to pick Mr Jaha unless you actually vow to marry her."

Marcus blinked. "No, she doesn't have to marry anyone. I will think of a way she won't have to accept either of the proposals."

"And what might that way be?"

Marcus did not know how to answer. Now that he thought about it, there was no fathomable way he could manoeuvre Abby to retain her home and keep her unattached at the same time 

"As I thought," Indra said dryly. "Fear not, however. The only reason I can think of for you to set this obvious trap for yourself is because you do love her and wish to marry her. You have to admit it to yourself, you wouldn't do something so grand and idiotic for any other woman."

"Perhaps not, but I didn't do it because I love her! She was my friend, Jake's wife..."

Lady Trigeda looked at him wearily. "I don't know what to tell you, Kane."

"I do not love her," he insisted again. 

Lady Trigeda shook her head sorrowfully."Then I feel sorry for you and your friend."

She turned her back at him with a sigh, preparing to return to her quarters. "When you travel to London for her gown, be sure to pick something she could also wear at her wedding. She will be standing by the altar with either you or Mr Jaha, and it's entirely your call."

Marcus was left alone in the dark, quiet parlour, the consequences of his plan hitting him with full force. His heart clenched in remorse. Surely, Abby wouldn't have to marry either of them. He would never subject her to such misery. He would think of something. He had to. 

"I do not love her," he repeated once again to the empty room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you can bear with me until the reveal about their past. It's coming, and it's a doozy. 
> 
> Thank you so much everyone who has been reading, leaving kudos and commenting! You make this story a joy to write!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby is gifted a gown. Marcus makes a resolution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so sorry for the long wait! This fic really means a lot to me and I never intended to abandon it for so long. But if it helps, this chapter a little longer than usual.

That night Abby came to his dreams. 

At the darkest moment of the night, after hours of tossing and turning, Marcus opened his eyes and saw her lying by his side, her face only a bread's width away from his. She was smiling softly, the way she used to smile at him. 

"Hello again," she whispered. 

Her hair was free from the bounds of the ribbon she usually wore. It flowed onto his pillow as a similar honey-coloured river as the day she had arrived at Polis Park with the hem of her petticoat drenched in mud. She was only wearing her shift, her bare skin gleaming in the moonlight that was pouring from the window.

"You're not real," Marcus answered.

She hushed him. "You always think too hard. Perhaps I only came to thank you."

Marcus sighed. After ten years or so without undisturbed sleep, he had assumed Abby would have given up on visiting his dreams. He must have been wrong because she had been nearly a constant presence in his subconscious ever since he had caught a glimpse of her bare shoulders.

"Perhaps you are only haunting me because I don't know what I can do for Abby," Marcus said, wrenching his eyes away from her bare skin. He'd rather not wake up in the morning achingly hard again. 

Her lips curled up into an amused smile. "You know very well what the solution is. Deep, deep in here," she said, poking her finger to her temple.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Really? You're arguing about it with a product of your own imagination. That's just pitiful."

Marcus glared into her dark brown eyes. "If I wanted Abby telling me I'm pathetic I would have already told her I'm having dreams about her."

"She would slap you if you went into the details," dream Abby said with a mirthless voice.

"I'm well aware how depraved I am," Marcus sighed, combing his fingers through his hair. "Please, just leave. I'm trying my hardest not to let _you_ ruin this for me. I've just gotten her back."

"You are a fool if you think you won't lose her soon anyway."

"I'm no fool."

"So you know what you have to do?"

Marcus started wearily reciting the familiar mantra that had been playing in his head ever since he had lain down. "She has no money. She has no connections, and only a meagre dowry whose interest barely keeps her and her daughter fed. Marriage is her only option, but not to Mr Jaha. She won't take my money so the only thing I can do to help her is to..."

"Yes?" Dream Abby cooed. 

Marcus swallowed a hard lump in his throat. The next words were painful to get out. "I'm obligated to find her a good husband who can provide her and Clarke with a comfortable home. It's the only way I can honour my promise to Jake."

Dream Abby let out a disappointed sigh and turned over so that Marcus could only see her back. He studied the freckles of her shoulder and wondered if they were only the creation of his subconscious or whether some memory he'd rather repress was leaking to his dream. He closed his eyes.

"Or," she said quietly.

"Or?" Marcus asked.

But when he opened his eyes, she had already vanished. He grasped uselessly at the sheets, and for the first time in the longest time, he felt like weeping - something he had sworn to never again do for her sake.

From that moment on, he slept dreamlessly.

* * *

Against all of his prayers and pleas, it rained the whole night. The weather in the morning was dreadfully eerie and he could feel it in the ache of his leg. When he rose from the bed, the pain was only aggravated, and he had to reach for his cane in order to prop himself up. 

He hated this. His battle wound wouldn't ask his opinion before rendering him practically lame on the most inconvenient of days. It was the bitter reward for all those years spent at the sea, fighting a seemingly endless war. Still, he would long for nothing else than to return to his ship and set sail again with Octavia in order to escape the decisions he was currently facing. 

Lady Trigeda was in the breakfast room with her daughter and offered him a sympathetic nod when she saw him stumbling downstairs with his cane. He was meant to see Abby in the town today. Marcus thought whether he could see pity in her eyes when she saw his condition properly for the first time, or if she would merely turn her head away from the sad sight. Both options darkened his mood. 

"You have received a letter," Lady Trigeda said, sipping her tea. Miss Woods was staring out of the window insistently as if she could will away the dark clouds with only her stubborn gaze. She seemed to be eager to go meet her friend, Miss Griffin, just as Marcus was desperate to see Abby.

It was curious how these newly-established friendships could affect them both so strongly. 

"What letter?" he asked. 

"It's a writ of summons. They have decided on your title and want you in London." She slid the important document towards him. "Congratulations, Lord Kane, Baron of Eden. Here, I opened it for you."

"Is there no part in my life you don't have your nose in?" Marcus asked gruffly, looking at the letter. 

"I was only afraid you would throw it away and feign ignorance if I didn't take hold of the matter. I know how disinterested you are in the whole affair."

"There are plenty of lords already."

"And so it starts again. I'd hate for the king to chop off your head at the dishonour of you not showning up. Besides, you deserve some recognition for your service to the country. Get that title, get that seat in the House of Lords!"

"It feels like an empty price. I'm not allowed on my own ship ever again, and they send me off with a cane and a title I have no need for, expecting me to be overjoyed with it all."

Lady Trigeda sighed at him. " I cannot understand why you keep griping about it. At least you're not dead at the bottom of the sea. My third husband drowned during only a week long voyage, that fool. You should bless God that He spared you with a bullet to your leg. Now you can enjoy all the joys of society without fearing another call to war."

Pain shot through his leg again, and Marcus gritted his teeth. "I see, who wouldn't want to switch out Father's Joy to a life of constant pains in my leg, dull balls, excruciating dinner parties, and the inevitable matrimony..."

His thoughts returned to Abby. She might already be in the town with her daughter. How would she react to all this? Marcus was afraid his new title would only create a rift where their relationship had just been mended. He'd hate himself if she felt obliged to cast herself low in any way before him. 

"You're thinking about your betrothed," Lady Trigeda noted. "Don't concern yourself with it. That ought to only speed the process. Tell her she'll be a baroness if she'll have you and she'll be in your arms in no time - why are you glaring at me? You do want her to say yes to you instead of Mr Jaha, don't you? You need all the help you can get."

"Title or no title, I'm certain I'd fare better than Mr _Jaha_."

"You're already speaking in inevitabilities. Shall I already talk to the vicar about the church?"

"If I had any such intentions, you'd need to fetch the rifle like we talked about," he said with a low voice. He had expected Lady Trigeda's teasing to grow even more merciless after last night, but for that, he could only blame himself for even telling her about the service he had done for Abby. He focused his frustration on his writ of summons, snatching it up and glowering at it.

"When am I summoned to a meeting?" 

"In a fortnight. Three weeks before the ball my son is so insistent on hosting. It is a good opportunity for you to take Mrs Griffin and her daughter to London and buy them gowns as you promised."

"And I intend to honour my word," Marcus said, then gulped as he thought about the practicalities of such an arrangement. Was it even proper for him to follow her to the dressmaker?

"Don't fret. I will come with her to the shops," Indra comforted as if having read his thoughts. "Alexandra," she called. "Wouldn't you want to keep company to Miss Clarke and assist her in choosing the fabric and the trimmings?"

Miss Woods snapped to alerteness so swiftly she almost reeled off her chair. "Certainly!" she exclaimed, but quickly dampened her enthusiasm when faced with her mother's quirked eyebrow. "I mean, nothing would give me greater pleasure."

Lady Trigeda nodded approvingly. "Then it's settled. When you see your lady in the town today, let her know about the treat we have planned for her and her daughter."

"Don't call her that."

"Oh, Shall I call her Mr Jaha's instead? Or perhaps s _omeone else'_ s entirely?" Lady Trigeda said in a challenging tone that suggested she knew exactly what dilemma Marcus had been wrestling with all night. He once again tried to reassure himself of his rudimentary plan. 

_He'd arrange Abby to marry a respectable gentleman._

_Or he could..._

_Or._

The word _or_ was what troubled him the most.

Marcus and Lady Trigeda glared at each other determinedly. Lady Trigeda's gaze was so piercing and infuriatingly _knowing_ that Marcus eventually had no choice but to wrench his eyes away, gritting his teeth. 

Fortunately, there was a letter from Octavia amongst the post as well which he grabbed next. "I have correspondence to attend to," he said coolly, turning his back to Lady Trigeda, and marched off.

In the peace of his own study, he finally absorbed the contents of the letter, only to bury his head and sigh as Octavia once again asked if he was going to bring home a wife. 

* * *

 

The town was abuzz with colour and sound as Abby arrived there with Clarke. Everywhere Abby looked, she saw marching officers in their red regimentals, flags hoisted up the buildings and women in their prettiest gowns trying to catch a lieutenant's eye. Children were screaming and laughing, drunken men bellowing and idle wives gossiping about the newcomers. Abby could understand the excitement since it had been a good while before something as fascinating as a military regiment had arrived in the town, but ever since the arrival of Marcus and the family of Sir Lincoln, she found it difficult to rouse herself to the same heights of passion at any diversion of their usual calm life like once before. Clarke seemed not to have lost that talent yet. She was turning her head in one direction after another, her wide eyes desperately chasing all the new sights and sensations as if they would disappear forever if not seized not at once. 

Abby smiled wistfully, squeezing her daughter's hand. If only Jake had lived, there would be no limits to what their daughter could see and experience. 

The wild expression on Clarke's face as she took in the marching regiment transformed into utter delight about something completely removed from the militia. "Lexa!" she exclaimed, then made such a dash in the opposite direction that her hand was wrenched away from Abby's and she was left alone, dizzy and confused. She turned her head frantically in every direction, seeking her daughter but such endeavors bore ill fruit. 

To her horror, she only caught sight of Mr Jaha in the crowd. He was staring at her. Abby grimaced, wondering whether she should hide. 

She met Mr Jaha's eyes, but that didn't prompt the man to come any closer which was a promising sign. Just as Marcus had ordered, the man was keeping his distance. Still, Abby would feel more comfortable if she was only a little bit farther away from him and preferably in company. She ducked under a couple of arms and dove into the crowd, looking for anyone whose company she could join. Even Mrs Sidney would do. Unfortunately, Mr Jaha seemed to be following her some ten feet behind. 

It was a relief to finally see Miss Wood's sapphire blue walking gown gleaming in the crowd. The girl was engaged in an excited conversation with her daughter, both looking completely indifferent to their busy surroundings. Abby briefly wondered if Clarke had been interested in the military regiment at all. She cast a furtive glance over her shoulder at Mr Jaha to see if he was still there. The man was not looking at her anymore, but frowning in a completely different direction. 

Her heart leaped when she saw the reason for his displeasure. Marcus was standing close to Miss Woods, looking rather uncomfortable in the large crowd as usual. He was hiding something that looked like a walking cane behind his back. Abby smiled amongst herself. Only he could be embarrassed by the evidence of his efforts in the war. 

She admired him from afar, pushing back the feeling of somehow having betrayed herself for doing so. It was an unfamiliar activity to think of him so favourably, and she was still uncertain whether she even should. But 20 years was a long time, and he had just performed an enormous favour for her. Some affection was necessarily in order. 

Abby had studied him long enough for him to notice her, and their eyes met. She smiled at him, for why shouldn't she have? It was not wrong to smile at a good man and old friend, she reassured herself. 

Marcus, simultaneously bewildered and delighted at the simple gesture, smiled back at her after a moment and tipped his hat. Only then did Abby realise how inappropriate the exchange should appear to the eyes of Mr Jaha had he been observing them, so she turned into his direction and forced a smile at him as well.

Mr Jaha blinked. After having processed the rare event of Abby expressing actual friendliness towards him, he flashed a somewhat self-satisfied grin in Marcus' direction before stepping forward in order to go to her. Following the exact same instinct, Marcus started approaching her as well. Abby froze. Now she had both gentlemen walking towards her, so Abby did what every woman who had gotten caught engaging in an accidentally coquettish conduct did  — she bolted in panic. 

As she held up her skirts and skittered on, she dearly hoped no one had caught the little exchange. The last thing she wanted was to be the talk of the town for smiling at two different men who had both more or less made her an offer. She pretended to be in a hurry and successfully weaved her way to an alleyway where she would be safe from the public eye. 

As soon as she slipped inside, she discovered that the place where she could catch her breath was already occupied by two sweethearts in an intimate embrace. Abby had every intention to leave the two alone, had they not leaped immediately apart at her entrance and revealed their identities. 

She saw no other than mortified Raven Reyes and a young man with sandy brown hair and a red uniform who looked more puzzled rather than embarrassed at having been caught.

"Ah, Abby. Here you are. I was looking for you," Raven sputtered. "I was just helping Mr Collins with the button of his uniform. Surely you didn't get the wrong impression?"

"Of course not," Abby said, struggling not to let a smile crawl to her lips. _So this was the young man Raven had been so eagerly anticipating._

Raven hastened to introduce the two. "Mr Collins, this is Mrs Griffin. Mrs Griffin, meet Mr Collins, an old acquaintance."

Abby curtsied, and Mr Collins offered a slight bow back. His hand then disappeared behind Raven, and judging by the colour of the girl's face, it was now placed on the small of her back.

Abby broke the following tense silence. "Are you with the regiment from Shropshire?"

"Indeed. I received a lieutenant's commission this summer."

"And your heartquarters are to be TonDC for this _whole_ winter?" Abby asked, smiling. Raven shot her a glare.

"It's truly a pleasure to be able to get  _intimately_ acquianted with this place for such a long period of time," Mr Collins said, causing Raven's cheeks to darken even more. Officers had certainly become slicker since her youth, Abby thought. 

"Come along, Miss Reyes, Mrs Griffin. I have someone I want to introduce to you," Mr Collins said and began leading them away. 

Only, it was the other way around. They had not advanced many feet out of the alley when they were already surrounded by a whole host of curious acquiantances. Clarke and Miss Woods had gained the company of Sir Lincoln, Mr Wells Jaha, Miss Fox, Miss McIntyre and Mr Green, and they had all been looking for Raven who had more than clearly insinuated to have contacts in the milia. This contact turned out to be Mr Collins to everyone's pleasure and soon they were all introduced. He had a handsome countenance, honyed tongue and easiness of spirit that left no soul uncharmed, except for Miss Woods who studied him somewhat apprehensively.

"Allow me to tell you what we faced in France last year," Mr Collins said and took Clarke's arm. 

Abby remembered him telling he only joined the militia after the war had already been over, but didn't dare to discourage Clarke's keen excitement by implying that Mr Collins' definition of the word "we" was rather loose. Miss Woods had to be aware of this too since she explicitly rolled her eyes at every other sentence the young man let out of his mouth.

Raven didn't seem too bothered by all the attention Mr Collins was paying to Clarke which made Abby re-evaluate her initial impression of their relationship. Regardless of what their connection was truly like, she found herself liking the man less and less the more he attempted to charm her daughter with his glorified tales of heroism.

His narrative was only interrupted when Miss McIntyre caught the sight of a shop window and expressed loudly that she needed new ribbons for the ball.

"The ball?" Mr Collins curiously repeated.

"At the Polis Park. You're naturally invited," Mr Lincoln said, good-natured as always.

"It's been a while when I have had last the pleasure of dancing," Mr Collins said, still holding Clarke's arm, and threw a sideways glance at Raven who smiled. Again, Abby was confused about the nature of their relationship. 

All women except for Raven went into the little shop while the men stayed outside with Abby, although Mr Collins looked tempted to follow the flutter of skirts to the shop. He soon did exactly that, only after exclaiming a rather curious plea. "Mr Lincoln, I must persuade you to add another person on your guest list!" 

Then the man disappeared into the stop, and for a second Abby remained confused as to whom he had meant by that until a shadow of an imposing figure was cast over her feet.

"Of course," Mr Lincoln said amiably. "It's a pleasure, Colonel Pike."

Abby turned around and saw a broad-shouldered, bald, uniform-clad man smiling at her. "I'm afraid I'm in a desperate need of an introduction," he said at Mr Lincoln, still gazing at Abby.

"Forgive me. This is lovely Mrs Griffin. This is Colonel Pike, the head of the regiment."

"I have heard of you," Abby said rather sheepishly as Colonel Pike bowed.

"Only good, I hope," he inquired and after Abby had nodded, rather unsurely as she had only heard his name mentioned once or twice, but Colonel's smile widened nevertheless. 

"There must be a Mr Griffin I ought to be introduced as well-" Colonel said and glanced at Sir Lincoln who quickly mouthed "widow."

"I'm sorry," Colonel said, not looking very sorry at the piece of information at all. He realised to correct his oversight by frowning a second too late which Abby found rather endearing. She also felt flattered now that she got a better a look at Colonel Pike. He was not a bad looking man by any means. Why not stroke her vanity a little bit for the first time in many years? It was not as if any other men besides repugnant Mr Jaha had eyes on her.

"Welcome to TonDC, Colonel. How do you like our little town?"

"I have not beheld prettier sight in a good while," he replied, his gaze still fixed on her. Abby rolled her eyes fondly at that. "Perhaps you're free to give me a tour-"

Suddenly, a gloved hand touched Abby's arm. "Excuse me," said a threateningly low voice from behind her. Heart wildly beating, Abby turned her head.

Marcus was standing behind her, his hand now firmly grasping her elbow. She shivered at the contact. His eyes stared right past her to the man she had just spoken with. The air suddenly felt heavy and oppressive. Abby had never seen such a cold look in Marcus' eyes, not even when he had first regarded her after their 20-year-old grudge. Colonel Pike glared back at him, but without equal venimonisity. He looked arrogant at first, then uncomfortable, and finally frightful before breaking their prolonged eye contact. Whereas Marcus' face was red, Colonel Pike looked pale as he turned away.

"It was a pleasure, Mrs Griffin," he eventually said to Abby, his eyes flickering to Marcus' fingers that were curled around her arm. He then turned around and stalked away, without as much as a touch of his hat at Marcus.

Abby kept silent. It certainly wasn't her place to pry into the affairs of Marcus, especially now that she had just gained back his affection, so she bit her tongue. He was a good man, and whoever had offended him to the extent of him reacting with such unprecedented harshness had probably deserved it. Besides, it was hard enough to focus on much else when Marcus' touch was currently burning a hole on her sleeve. 

But then, he opened his mouth. 

"You may not talk to that man _ever_ again."

All the favourable thoughts about Marcus vanished from Abby's mind. "Excuse me?"

Only then Marcus seemed to realize with a startle that he was he was touching Abby. He surrendered her arm which she yanked back with a scoff. "Don't you dare to start ordering me around again! I'm a grown woman and I keep my own company. You ought to remember you have no power over me anymore."

Marcus stared back at her sternly. "That may be true, but I do have a duty over you. Jake wouldn't want him in your society either."

It was still bizarre Marcus could speak his name with such ease. Then again, it had been 8 years since their apparent reconciliation she still couldn't explain. It was hard to even imagine those two men in the same room after what had happened. Nevertheless, it bothered Abby to hear him speak like that as if he had naturally assumed the role of her...

"Let me hear the grounds for such an accusation," Abby stammered, her face suddenly hot.

Marcus glanced at Sir Lincoln who was looking quite uncomfortable as the witness of their fervent exchange. Mr Wells Jaha, fortunately, was currently engaged in an amiable tête-à-tête with Raven and had not heard them. 

Thus, Marcus steered Abby little further away from the crowd to talk in peace. She could see the pitying gazes of some of the ladies as Marcus led her away. _Poor_   _Mrs Griffin, why is that unpleasant gentleman vexing her?_

Rumours of his new rank didn't seem to have raised Marcus' esteem in the neighbourhood, and at this moment Abby was not even remotely surprised. 

When they were finally alone, his expression darkened.

"I have been unfortunate enough to have dealings with Colonel Pike in the past that proved him unworthy of any respect," he said and then fell gravely silent as if his answer was sufficient to satisfy any curiosity from here to eternity.

"You ought to have at least greeted him regardless of your personal strifes. He's still a _gentleman_.

"You wouldn't be saying so if you knew his true character," Marcus grumbled.

Abby turned swiftly towards him. "Listen now! You ought to remember that we were not in the best terms either at the beginning of your stay here. Now I consider us civil, and there's no doubt that it's because you still value my friendship despite... our troubles. Can't you rouse the same warm feelings you have towards me for Colonel Pike as well?"

For some reason, Marcus looked rather nauseous at the prospect.

"Colonel Pike's crimes can't be even compared to some heartache of mine-"

Only Abby's furious blush at such blunt reference to the 20-year-old incident made him waver. "-That is quite forgotten, as you know."

He hesitated before lightly touching Abby's shoulder. "We are still civil, aren't we?"

After a moment of silence, Abby nodded, but Marcus still looked troubled and hesitated to speak. It was as if he was frightened of having already shattered whatever little they had managed to rebuild the day before.

"Forgive me for commanding you what to do. I should remember how little you like that."

Abby smiled slightly at that which relaxed Marcus' posture. However, his expression remained grave. "I did not wish to offend you by imposing my own enmities on you, but I hope you trust my opinion of Colonel Pike enough to stay wary of him."

Abby was still doubtful to believe what kind of evils such a pleasant-seeming man could've committed to make Marcus unable to forgive him, even just after reconciling with _her_ of all people. Still, she did respect Marcus' opinion. Time had not taken that from her.

Whether his opinion was able to influence her own, was a whole other matter. 

"I shall," she promised. 

"I'm glad," he answered with a relieved smile. Abby couldn't help but smile back at him again. _Poor nervous man._ Her former self could've never evend dared to believe she would be able to witness him like this again.

He reached his hand out and Abby realised with a delighted jolt he intended to touch her again. It would be pleasant to be able to hold onto his arm and lean against his solid, warm body like yesterday. He was so tall that she could rest her head comfortably on his shoulder.

Marcus lightly encircled her wrist and Abby closed her eyes at the pleasurable sensation. "May I walk you home-?"

"There's absolutely no need!" said a chirpy voice from behind them. It turned out to be of Abby's very own daughter who was still clinging to Mr Collins' arm.

"Mr Collins has kindly offered to take us, mama," Clarke continued with a determined voice. Abby shot her daughter a sharp look.

"It's quite alright-"

"Mr Collins is insistent!' Clarke objected with a puzzlingly cheerful voice. Couldn't she read Abby's expression?

"Yes, I insist!" Mr Collins parroted after Clarke.

Common courtesy forced Abby to withdraw, yet she didn't spare the glares she shot in her daughter's direction all the while doing so. However, Marcus was reluctant to let go of her.

"London," he said fervently as if he'd just recalled the existence of such a place. "You must permit me to take you to London."

"London?" Abby blinked. _Whatever for?_ she thought.

For some reason, the only thing that flashed through her mind from the whole city was that small white church where she and Jake had been wed.

"I promised- Lady Trigeda promised you and Miss Clarke gowns for the ball."

"Oh," was all Abby could say. Surely he hadn't been serious about that remark back when it had been uttered?

Before Abby could object, however, Marcus squeezed her hand gently. "I'll send you a message.

With that said, he surrendered her hand and touched his hat at them. Abby could only watch as he turned and walked away with his cane, a strange feeling of disappointment carving its way to her heart as the warmth of his hand on hers slowly faded away.

Clarke winked at her mother. "No need to thank me. You can merely pay me back whenever  you catch someone as vexing as you find Admiral Kane trying to engage me in a conversation."

For some reason, Clarke noted, her mother remained in a bad mood for the whole duration of their walk home. 

* * *

In exactly a fortnight, two carriages arrived at Arkadia Cottage for Abby and Clarke. Lady Trigeda stepped down to personally to receive them and succeeded in only slightly frowning at the barrenness of their sitting room. 

In the past few days, Abby had changed her view on her generous offer of help and was now ready to accept it as she had finally deemed her old worn ball gown a lost cause. The hem had been torn in the Assembly Room ball during one of the many dances Clarke had taken part in. 

Marcus had not called on her since they had seen in the town. She was quite frustrated with herself for feeling disappointed about the fact, even though Marcus could hardly have a reason to visit her. Besides, that would never go unnoticed by Mr Jaha.

Still, it bothered her.

Clarke could hardly contain herself when they finally climbed to their carriages. She was to sit with Miss Woods and Sir Lincoln while Abby shared the coach with Lady Trigeda. Marcus was absent.

As if having read her thoughts, Lady Trigeda cordially informed that he would be riding ahead of the carriages. Abby felt rather uncomfortable as the woman studied her expression while speaking of Marcus. That feeling was only aggravated; halfway through the journey to London, she caught a glimpse of Marcus on his horse through the carriage window and shuffled closer to it. Only after she had watched his skillful riding for some time, she noticed Lady Trigeda staring at her with keen interest. 

She spent the rest of the way looking at her lap.

As they arrived in Mayfair, the only contact she had with Marcus was when he hurriedly helped her step down from the carriage. Only one second of his fingers clasped around her hand and he had already excused himself.

"Forgive my friend," Lady Trigeda said as they later walked down the street together. "Going to the Houses of Parliament has him always in an ill temper."

Abby wondered whether today was the day he'd receive his title. She had her answer only a moment later when Lady Trigeda started declaring how few fine women there were who'd make a good Baroness for him, but that she was nevertheless fortunate enough to be newly acquainted with someone most suitable. 

Abby dearly hoped she was not referring to Mrs Sidney.

Clarke skittered along with Miss Woods and Sir Lincoln to explore the various haberdasher's shops skattered along the street while Abby and Lady Trigeda started directly with the linen-drapers to choose fabrics for the gowns. In the shop, Abby instinctively headed towards the section with cheap muslin, but Lady Trigeda kindly steered her by the arm towards the tables with silk.

Embarrassed, Abby watched as the shop assistant rolled open an exceedingly expensive-looking fabric before their eyes only to roll it up again as Lady Trigeda shook her head and snapped her fingers towards even finer fabric. It must have been over twenty years the last time she was in a shop like this, and even then she hadn't dared to squander Jake's money so.

"What do you think?"

A roll of fine fabric of the purest white colour was displayed before her, and it was surely one of the most lavish things she had ever beheld. Abby swallowed. Surely, there was no way she could accept such a gift...

"I like this one," she said, nodding towards a light blue material on the upper shelf. It was something she would've picked when she still was Jake's wife and would make a moderately priced, beautiful gown. 

Lady Trigeda took one look at it and then shook her head vigorously. "That won't do."

Abby knotted her brow. "How about this one?" she suggested, pointing at a green, finer looking roll of fabric in the vain hope of pleasing Lady Trigeda's expensive taste.

To Abby's surprise, Lady Trigeda wrinkled her nose at that as well. Shen then, rather forcibly, grabbed her by the elbow and directed her away from the colourful fabrics. "I'm thinking of something... white."

In the end, Abby had the privilege to choose from the abundant array of colours ranging from egg shell white to ivory. Only when she picked a cream-coloured silk did Lady Trigeda finally voice her approval. From that moment on, Abby had some say in the design of the gown and the trimmings (although Lady Trigeda absolutely insisted on white lace) and soon the seamstresses made haste. The gown would be fitted and finished before their carriages pulled out of Mayfair.

Abby discussed some of the finer details with the dressmaker's assistant when Clarke stormed in, her cheeks pink and eyes bright. She almost collided with her mother in her rush to get to her.

"My dear, what is going on?" Abby asked as Clarke only held onto her dress, laughing almost heartbreakingly joyously. Abby had not heard such a beautiful sound in a long while. She grasped her daughter's face, lifting it up while lovingly tucking errant strands behind her ear. The concerned look she cast on her only made the girl erupt in an even livelier laughter.

"I'm so happy," Clarke eventually revealed, causing Abby to break into the brightest of smiles. She might guess the reason.

"Were you just now with Sir Lincoln and Miss Woods?" she asked, already anticipating a welcome answer. 

"We took the most wonderful walk and talked and talked until there was nothing left to say," she replied. "Mama, I have never felt this way before. I might burst from joy. I think I..."

Abby enveloped her daughter in her tight embrace before she could finish. Clarke buried her head in the crook of Abby's shoulder, letting her pet her hair. "I know dear, I know," Abby consoled, smiling so hard it hurt. Now she knew her daughter's happiness might just lay a breath's width away. 

If only she could see if Sir Lincoln was as elated as Clarke right now in order to judge how soon the proposal would take place.

Clarke's mood suddenly seemed to shift and she sighed deeply. "Whatever will I do?"

Abby frowned. "Surely, your feelings must be returned?"

Clarke looked only sadder at that. "Yes."

Abby attempted to lift her spirits by helping her pick a fabric, but the girl was now wholly lost in her thoughts. Abby's mind returned to the time when she was herself uncertain whether Jake's family would approve as he'd first started courting her. Perhaps Clarke was only fraught with the same insecurities. 

"In the end, love is what's most important," she encouraged Clarke. That was the only thing that managed to make her daughter smile even a little. 

 

* * *

 

Marcus Kane, probably the most dejected newly made lord in the whole kingdom, was waiting by the dressmaker's. Lord Kane, Baron of Eden he was now called, but he was no more happy about it than any man who had received a useless piece of paper and a new set of irrelevant duties at the House of Lords that only served to pomp one's rank. Marcus sighed and once again let his mind return to his glory days at Father's Joy when he had never been farther away from high society. That was the second best time of his life.

Just then, Lady Trigeda stepped out of the shop and Marcus diverted his attention to her.

"Is she ready?" he rasped out. 

Marcus needed to talk to Abby. Some decision had to be made before he lost his mind. He had scarcely been able to sleep because of her this past fortnight.

He wondered if his duty had been easier if he had arrived in Hertforshire only to find Abby already married to a gentleman. Had there only been more eligible visitors to TonDC over the years, that would have surely been the case. After all, Marcus had seen the way Pike had looked at her. The sight still repulsed him.

However, no image in his head of some stranger marrying Abby was easier to bear. 

Lady Trigeda tilted her head knowingly.

" _They_ are not ready. However, if you want to see _her_ , you may enter. I believe they have already fitted Mrs Griffin."

"I might as well wait outside," Marcus said gruffly. 

Several moments passed. Lady Trigeda patiently waited as Marcus occupied himself with studying the street signs and observing the traffic, until the man finally snapped around, agitated.

"Stop looking at me in that manner! She is my _friend_ and I should feel no shame for wanting to go in to talk to her."

Lady Trigeda remained silent which only agitated him more. Finally, Marcus yielded and headed to the entrance. 

"I hope you like the gown. As you see it, you will surely thank me for having saved another expensive trip to The Town in the coming weeks," Lady Trigeda called out after him, making Marcus curse under his breath. He suddenly knew full well what kind of a gown Lady Trigeda had picked for Abby.

He clambered in and asked the closest shop assistant to take her to Mrs Griffin. He complied swiftly, if not nervously, and took him to the back room. 

He was faced with a bewildered seamstress who was kneeling before an unfinished gown. That white, almost ethereal piece of clothing was donned by Abby. She had not seen him enter yet for she was looking wistfully out of the window. 

A portion of her skirts had not been sewn together yet, and Marcus could glimpse a sliver of something most startling - the faint outline of her legs through her petticoat. 

The world jerked under Marcus' feet. 

Such an exquisite sight was meant only for her intimate family. He wrenched his gaze away in horror and took a blind step backwards. Marcus hoped he still had time to retreat before Abby saw him. He ought to go throttle Lady Trigeda for lying to his face about Abby having been fitted already. 

However, he had unwittingly let out a peculiar noise as he had first glimpsed the breathtaking sight which succesfully alerted Abby to his presence. She let out an equally strange noise as she saw him and coloured slightly, but made no attempt to shield herself from his gaze. 

"Forgive me," Marcus said quietly. With his gaze firmly locked on the floor, he walked out.

 

* * *

 

Marcus waited for her on one of the sofas inside the dressmaker's, his elbows propped his knees and his head drooping sorrily down. His thoughts lingered on the sight he had just beheld.

If everything proceeded accordingly, she could be wearing that same gown at her own wedding. Marcus would be forced to watch as she joined hands with some man she had been obligated to accept. As he mulled the imagine in his head over and over again, the man sometimes started to resemble Mr Jaha. 

He'd rather hack off his good leg with a rusty saw than let that happen. 

Sometimes the man took the shape of Pike. The image was so hateable Marcus shuddered with fury. Then agan, any husband whose obscure image Marcus could conjure caused his hand to clench into a fist. How could Marcus ever know for certain that anyone was good enough for her, no matter how well-mannered, respectable and gracious they appeared? Pike had been his friend in the beginning, and he could've never expected him to betray his trust so atrociously. Even his closest and most trusted fellow officers were out of consideration. He couldn't afford to trust anyone not to hurt her. 

There was no man in the world worthy of her.

An eternity later, Abby walked into the room with the now finished gown on her, white skirts flaring in her wake. Marcus couldn't stop staring at the way the fabric moved. The gown looked just as beautiful as when it had been draped around Abby, only half-complete. She smiled at him teasingly.

"For goodness' sake, it was only my petticoat," Abby laughed. "You must have seen your fair share of them over the years, _Admiral_."

Before Marcus could offer a stupiefied answer to that insinuation, Abby apologized. "Oh, I'm sorry. It's not Admiral anymore. I should call you _my lord_ from now on," she smiled, sitting on the sofa beside him so that the fabric of her skirt brushed against him. 

Every part of his body now burning with unbearable intensity, he suddenly missed the time they were not on speaking terms. 

"It's only awkward if we make it so," Abby stated as he kept silent. "Don't look at me like that, didn't we tease each other all time back in the day? I have missed it so."

He stuttered a reply. "Just Marcus will do."

"I know," Abby said softly. She quickly glanced at his hand that was resting between on the seat, then continued: "Does the gown please you? I remember that you never had much of a taste when it came to fashion, but I still value your opinion."

"It is most becoming," Marcus said, careful not to let his eyes linger on her too long. "But that's not why I'm here."

"Tell me the reason then."

"We need to talk about your future."

Abby sighed. "I'm not surprised. I spied on you from the back room door as you waited for me. You were thinking so hard I could _hear_ it."

"You must marry."

"Please, Marcus. Now you sound like my late mother," she chuckled.

He frowned. The matter was serious, couldn't she understand that? It had consumed his every waking hour ever since Lady Trigeda had made him face the harsh realities of his faux proposal to Abby.

"You must be aware that you have few options, and that is the reason you initially accepted Mr Jaha's proposal. But my solution to the problem posed by him is only temporary, and soon you will be faced with a situation where you can no longer decline anyone's offer."

"Indeed, I said yes to Mr Jaha, but I only did it to safeguard my daughter. I no longer worry about her future."

"How so?" Marcus asked, confused. 

Abby smiled slyly, then lowered her voice to be as gentle as a whisper as if what she was about to tell him was too precious to be said aloud. "I have high hopes she's going to be engaged soon to a man she loves."

"Engaged?" Marcus repeated incredulously.

Abby frowned a little at his expression. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"No, not at all. She's lovely," Marcus corrected. _Just as her mother._ "But I'm afraid her courtship has passed entirely without my notice."

The corners of Abby's eyes crinkled. "Oh, Marcus. You have to admit you're a little thick when it comes to these things."

He felt offended at first, but when she burst into beautiful peals of laughter at his expression, he couldn't help but melt for her. Just as he always did. "In that case, I'm happy for Miss Clarke."

He thought back to the men he had seen with Miss Griffin and became somewhat scared that Abby was putting all of her hope on the young officer on whose arm he had seen Clarke some time ago. He scarcely looked affluent enough to be able to support a wife at this point of his career, let alone his wife's mother.

"But whatever will happen to you?" he couldn't help but ask.

"That is of no consequence."

"How can it not be?" Marcus asked, catching himself sounding a little desperate. 

"I won't accept Mr Jaha, if that is what you're afraid of. I have no need to marry anyone, in fact. If only my daughter is taken care of, I will have no want for anything else. I can live in a small place in the town and support myself. There is an abundance of wealthy spinsters in need of a companion or families who lack a governess. I will be perfectly well off."

Every word was agony to hear. It was so exquisitely _her_ to think this way of her own future, but that didn't make it tear at his heart any less. She was not meant for such a lonely, meagre life. 

"I can only allow that path if you tell me it's capable of making you happy," Marcus whispered.

Abby smiled wistfully. "As a father, you must know that I am willing to set my own happiness aside for my daughter any day."

Now distressed because he knew it to be true, Marcus gripped the seat desperately as if to steady himself. She was really planning on doing this.

"Abby-"

"I'm quite certain I'll manage. You know that too," she said softly and all the weight of his fears of the past eight years seemed to drop in Marcus' stomach at the same time. _But I don't. Never for certain. Abby, you must know I can't live with that._

Abby placed her hand between them, near his. She was smiling reassuringly, perhaps saying something Marcus wasn't able to hear for the loud hum that had suddenly flooded his ears. He could scarcely breathe as he looked at her. The world was only distant sound and colour and _her_ as the thought struck him with the full force of all the ammunition in England.

_Or._

_Or._

Suddenly, it was the only certainty in the world. 

_Or._

_Or._

The resolution filled his heart to the brim. 

_Or._

_Or._

Marcus brushed his fingers against hers. 

_Or I could make you happy._

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus has decided to ask Abby to marry him. Abby is blissfully unaware.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terrible with updating this, I'm so sorry!

Whereas Marcus had been curt and stiff with Abby the morning they had arrived in London, he expressed exceeding tenderness as he walked Abby back to the coach. He let her hold onto his arm and pulled her protectively close to him as they crossed the streets. Last but not least, he squeezed his hand around hers as he helped her step into the carriage and allowed his touch to linger. Abby was quite pleased by that. Not only because the sensation of his hand in hers, albeit gloved, spread heart-stirring warmth into her chest, but also because she no longer seemed like an obligation to him. Rather, she was pleasurable company he wouldn’t want to part from.

But then he stiffened again. 

“Travel safely,” he said brusquely and withdrew his hand that had rested so nicely atop hers. Abby frowned as she watched him go. It seemed that the man could not compose himself to be agreeable for longer than a few moments. Such a pity. 

The very next moment Abby heard Marcus faintly quarrel with Lady Trigeda by the next carriage. “I won’t see your poor horse to exert himself another 25 miles back to Hertfordshire,” she said. “It needs to be rested at our stables here.”

“How do you suppose I’d return then?”

“We have two perfectly fine coaches with us. You can share one with Mrs Griffin - do not glare at me. Ours will be full. I’d like to spend this journey with my son and daughter, and I’m certain Miss Griffin will accompany us as well.”

“I see,” Marcus said with a frosty tone. 

Abby took offense. Certainly her company wasn’t that unpleasant! 

_Albeit_ , Abby considered after cooling herself down, Lady Trigeda was putting Marcus into a difficult position. They’d be alone for several hours in an intimate setting, and she couldn’t fault him for feeling uncomfortable, especially after what happened at the dressmaker’s. It was another thing entirely to be alone within a closed space than talk with her on an open, trodden path or by the bustle of the shops. If it was any other gentleman, perhaps she’d feel uneasy too. She’d rather crawl back to Hertfordshire than give a man she didn’t trust the advantage of such a private setting.

But with Marcus, she’d be willing to share a space half as big. It was not as if he had anything to say to her he couldn’t say in front of others. 

She eventually heard footsteps and murmurs of the coachman and Marcus. The door opened after a moment, revealing Marcus’ endearingly agitated face. His hand flew to grasp the frame, but he made no effort to lift himself up and climb to the carriage. He stayed by the open door, visibly pondering whether he _should_. He looked so troubled by such a small decision Abby couldn’t help but let her lips curve into a fond smile.

“Scared of me, Marcus?” she teased.

Marcus looked wearily at her. “I am more scared _for_ you, Abby. I don’t want to overstep.”

She fought the urge to chuckle. As if he could ever intrude on her. 

“As long as this doesn’t reach Mr Jaha’s ears, I think we’ll be fine.”

Her warm expression must have encouraged Marcus for he decided to climb in after a moment of consideration. He politely settled opposite of her but avoided looking at her, his features hard and unreadable. 

Marcus waited for a few moments after the coachman had closed the door before drawing in a deep breath. Suddenly, he swallowed, straightened his posture and fixed his heavy gaze at Abby, his whole body seeming to have grown rigid with some sort of a hidden resolution.

“Maybe it was a blessing we were left alone like this,” he said hoarsely. “I can only hope what I’m about to say next won’t come as a surprise - for you’ve surely been wiser than me and known how this would end all along. But please, if only for the sake of all the affection you have left for me, let me speak uninterrupted.”

Abby’s smile wavered under Marcus’ fervent gaze, her anxiety growing. Marcus looked serious to a frightening extent, and she truly had no inkling about what he could possibly have to say.

“I ask you to also to reflect on my words with compassion because you know how ill-advised it is for me to even broach the subject...”

Then, as she looked Marcus’ deadly grave expression, Abby realized the only possible meaning behind his words; he could no longer brush their past aside and wanted to pour out his pained feelings at long last. 

It had to be it. Why else would he want to be alone with her other than to dig up the horrid events she had been trying to suppress these past few decades? 

Whatever for, she did not understand. Nothing good could come out of it, and she would very much prefer to wholly forget anything had ever happened. She had been blessed this far by his refusal to address the incident. However, she should’ve known that wouldn’t be the case forever, Marcus could only gaze at her for so long without being reminded of her... breach.

Abby froze in mortification at the ancient memory of being with him in a carriage so similar to this one. Did being alone with her again like this bring forth so much guilt he had to open his mouth? She barely registered Marcus reaching out to clasp her gloved hand within his, so anxious she was at the long-feared confrontation.

“You have not yet refused to hear me. Very well. I’ll proceed, but you need to stop me if you find absolutely any of my words untoward, and I shall fall silent on this subject forever.”

Abby pinched her eyes shut. Perhaps it was for the best if they could move past it, once and for all, no matter how much pain it would inflict on them both. She would let him speak. 

She brushed her thumb over his gloved hand in reassurance, and Marcus continued, bewildered.

“You are silent - absolutely silent. That’s more encouragement I could have hoped for,” he said with a peculiarly shaky voice. He cleared his throat, carefully lifted his eyes to meet hers and began to speak with the softest of tones:

“Abby... you must know-“

Just then, the carriage door was wrenched open. 

Outside stood her daughter with red-rimmed eyes. Marcus’ dropped her hand faster than a burning coal at the sight of Clarke. Abby had been terribly startled as well. It was as if they both had been caught red-handed of something indecent. 

“What’s the matter, dearest?” Abby asked the second she had regained her composure, her hand at her heart. Marcus, his face more scarlet than Mrs Sidney’s latest ball gown, was suddenly very interested in the view through the window. 

“I asked Lady Trigeda if I could travel with you,” Clarke said with a quivering voice. 

Abby let out a pained noise at the sight of her daughter’s tears. Marcus instantly rose to help her climb into the carriage, and Abby pulled her daughter into her arms. 

She pressed Clarke’s head on the crook of her neck, guarding her affliction from Marcus’ gaze. Fortunately, the man was courteous enough as not to pay any heed to her daughter’s distressed state, opting instead to stare at his lap. 

“It’ll be alright,” Abby whispered into her hair, caressing the back of her head. “We’ll talk about it home.”

Clarke let out a grateful sniffle at that. 

She held onto her daughter until her breathing evened out. Clarke was so exhausted. It didn’t take many moments before her head sank heavily against Abby’s shoulder and her eyes drifted shut. After some time her breathing turned into a soft, steady snuffle. She looked at her daughter with overwhelming love filling her heart. How could she ever let go of this precious girl who still fell asleep in her mother’s embrace at the age of 18? 

Abby pressed a gentle kiss on Clarke’s brow, brushing some errant strands off her forehead. Her hand kept slowly stroking her daughter’s hair as she let out a content sigh and lifted her gaze. Her eyes met Marcus’. 

The look in his eyes was one of awe and some breathtaking emotion Abby couldn’t name. He didn’t shy away from Abby’s questioning gaze, only resuming to watch her even more engrossedly. It was as if he was drinking in her every feature with his soft brown eyes. His gaze made Abby feel warm all over. In the end, she was so flustered she had to look away, hoping that this astonishing moment should soon pass and Marcus would assume his customary rigid expression. At least she knew how to act and feel whenever he stared at her coldly and blankly, not like this, not like she was something he...

“Motherhood becomes you,” he eventually said with the softest of tones.

Suddenly, Abby remembered that seeing her like this was a wholly new experience to Marcus. He hadn’t been there during all those years she had raised Clarke; he had never once seen her heavy with her child or newborn Clarke in her arms with joyous tears in her eyes. He hadn’t been one of the visitors whose names Clarke had called out at the top of her lungs whenever she glimpsed a carriage pulling into the yard, nor had he made her day by dancing with her in her first ball when all the other men had overlooked her. It was strange, for Abby had always felt like he had been present - or the memory of the gentle man he used to be, at least.

“Thank you,” Abby said, feeling a stab of regret in her heart. After a brief pause, she continued. “I’d like to think you were not made worse by parenthood either.”

The corners of Marcus’ eyes crinkled. “My daughter is the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Tell me about her,” Abby smiled, still stroking Clarke’s hair.

Marcus fumbled for something in his chest pocket and eventually drew out a silver locket. He concealed the beautiful object in his large hand first, opening it and taking something out before finally lifting it to Abby’s eyes. Inside, there was a miniature painting of a young girl. 

“Is this her?”

“Yes, this is my Octavia.” Marcus handed her the locket for closer examination. The other item he had taken out he pocketed secretively, but Abby paid no particular heed to the action. A precious locket such as this could contain many things from his life she ought not be privy to.

Abby examined the picture of Octavia Kane. She looked a little younger than Clarke and had the same raven-black hair as Marcus, but otherwise she bore no clear resemblance to him with her fair skin and mischievous blue eyes. Then she thought back to what Lady Trigeda had revealed to her during her stay at Polis Park.

_Octavia was not really his daughter._

“She is so accomplished for her age, considering that she doesn’t have much patience to sit inside and cultivate her talents,” Marcus chuckled. “She plays pianoforte like an angel and can converse in three different tongues. Most of the time, however, she is riding about Derbyshire and making friends with everyone from the vicar to the chimney sweep. Her governess can scarcely keep up with her,” Marcus grin stretched from one ear to the other, causing Abby to smile widely too. 

Something stirred in her chest at seeing Marcus like that. When had been the last time she had witnessed such genuine joy on his features and how could she stretch this moment to last until eternity?

“All the spirit and stubbornness in her... she rather reminds me of someone,” Marcus then said softly.

“And who would that be?” Abby asked, only to realise a moment later whom he had referred to. “Do not do your daughter a disservice by comparing her to the hellion I used to be,” she stuttered, blushing.

Marcus only looked at her with unbearable warmth as a reply.

After a moment spent in comfortable silence as Abby examined the picture of Octavia and Marcus gazed at her, she decided to try her luck. “May I ask...,” Abby started warily, but thought better of it and grew quiet.

“You want to know who’s the mother?” Marcus finished for her.

Abby nodded, albeit feeling rather impudent.

“Her mother was young Miss Aurora Blake from Devonshire,” he said with a wistful smile on her face, and Abby experienced an odd, dark sensation tightening her chest. 

“I see,” she said coolly. 

After a moment, Marcus’ lips pulled into a thin line and his eyes filled with sorrow.

The silence filled Abby with thousands of questions.

_Did she perish?_

_Did you wish to marry her but could not?_

_Why are you raising her child?_

_Do you still think of her?_

She couldn’t get the none of the questions out, a heavy lump in her throat keeping them lodged in. Suddenly, she felt terrible, inexplicable unhappiness at the thought of Marcus loving this Aurora Blake. 

She tried to shake the strange feeling away, but the weight remained heavy on her heart.

“You were told Octavia weren’t truly mine, weren’t you?” he asked with a hoarse voice. 

Abby nodded, startled, as if she had done something wrong by learning of it.

“I have no knowledge of the man who fathered her, and I doubt her mother has either. Still, she is every bit of mine as my own bone and flesh.”

The lines on his face deepened as he spoke. “I put all my trust on you, Abby. People need not know she’s natural-born, and if they do find out, I’d rather have them think her father was a gentleman. There are so many who would exclude her if they knew the truth. My daughter doesn’t deserve that.”

“I won’t breathe a word of it to anyone.”

“I know you don’t,” Marcus smiled wearily. “Abby, you are...”

He suddenly let out a shuddering breath and looked at her desperately. “May I? Abby, please allow me to call you my friend again. For that you are, and will always be.”

Abby felt warmth rushing to her face and chest. She refrained from answering immediately for the fear of her light voice betraying the bubbling happiness within her. In the end, she could only nod. 

Marcus looked at her, beaming like the sun.

_Of course! Of course!_  She had wanted to shout. It almost seemed to be the only thing she had wanted to hear for the longest time. Tears sprung to her eyes at the relief. Their friendship had truly never irreparable.

Marcus grabbed her hand again and for a moment it seemed as if he would kiss it. Abby felt the jolt of anticipation rush over her like a warm wave, but that was when a tiny, annoying voice in the back of her head that started peeping that this all was a very bad idea indeed. 

The voice died the moment Marcus saw her expression and swiftly withdrew his hand, as if having done something terribly admonishable. 

They fell into a deep silence that was not broken for many hours. Abby spent most of the journey deep in her thoughts, pondering on their renewed friendship and whatever Jake would think of it. Eventually, her eyes started drifting shut at the sway of the carriage. She leaned her head against her daughter, and before she even knew it, she was slowly being lulled to sleep by the sound of Clarke’s soft breathing. 

At the edge of her consciousness, Abby felt a fur duvet being slowly draped over her and her daughter. Half-asleep, she lifted her head in an alarm, only for her cheek to be captured by a calloused palm. The hand gently coaxed her to lower head again and return to her slumber. The thumb lingered; for a fraction of a moment it stroked her cheek, the sensation so light Abby wasn’t sure if she was dreaming it. 

Then a soft voice said something which she, despite many efforts, couldn’t remember later. 

_Octavia will love you._

 

* * *

 

The next morning after having safely arrived home, Abby woke up to the sight of her gown hanging on the wall, all ready for the ball in only a handful of weeks. She smiled like a foolish young girl. She didn’t remember the last time she had owned something so beautiful or when she had last looked forward to something with this much ardour. 

She came downstairs humming her favorite melodies, only to encounter her daughter roughly tying her shoelaces in the hall, her countenance strongly resembling a storm cloud. She was fully dressed for an outing.

“Do you have something fun planned with Miss Woods?” Abby asked carefully.

“Mama, you know I have other friends than her,” Clarke snapped. “Why does everyone always assume I spend all of my time with her?”

Abby frowned. Clarke continued huffing and puffing like her question had wounded her to her very core.

“Is something the matter?”

“Everything is splendid! I’m going to the town with Raven and Wells to see the officers and I will have a grand time!” she declared, not sounding quite convincing. “If Miss Woods calls on us or sends a dinner invitation, I want you to tell her I’m bedridden.”

“Dearest-“

“Goodbye!” Clarke called, disappearing through of the door.

Abby leaned against the wall, sighing. If only she got a penny whenever Clarke decided to run off in furious tears rather than talk to her mother. It was one of the many joys of raising a daughter of this particular age.

She had no other choice but to continue on with her plans for the day, hoping to talk with Clarke in the evening. She went over the contents of their larder with Mrs Byrne and after negotiating with her what they could give up, she packed her basket with a fresh loaf, fruits, vegetables and bundles of the little amount of fish they had salted. She stepped out in her best walking dress with the basket in her arm and set out on the familiar path to the village of Arkadia. 

Abby drifted off to her thoughts as she walked. She hoped whatever quarrel Clarke and Miss Woods had developed would be nothing too hard to resolve. She’d hate if this took her daughter’s joy and excitement off the ball. Abby was so looking forward to seeing her laughing and swirling around on the floor with Sir Lincoln.

She snapped to alertness as she heard the sound of hooves on the dirt road. At first she thought it might be young Mr Wells Jaha, but then she remembered he was with Clarke. She quickened her pace, afraid of her pursuer being Mr Jaha himself. 

However, the horse was faster than her and reached her in no time. “My friend,” greeted the rider softly. 

Abby looked down, smiling as she recognised Marcus’ voice. She hadn’t expected to see him so soon again, but it was a pleasant surprise nonetheless. She tucked some windswept curls behind her ear and turned to face him.

“Are you lost? This is not the path back to Polis Park,” she teased. 

Marcus smiled. “Is it not? Damned horse, I thought he would be able to lead me home by now.”

The muzzle of his horse made interested movements towards the apples in Abby’s basket. She laughed and yanked the basket away. “Not today, dear. These are going to the poor.”

“To the poor?” Marcus lifted his eyebrow. He slowed the horse down to a walk so he could keep along with her. 

Abby laid a sad look at him. “After the passing of Mr Jaha’s wife, no charity work was performed on his land for months. I had expected him to invite one of his female relatives to oversee the mistress’ duties for a while, but instead, he left his butler in charge of the household and left his poorest tenants to their own luck. So I saw it as my responsibility...”

“To do what is expected of Mrs Jaha?” Marcus finished for her, an odd note in his voice.

“Somebody needed to.”

His expression darkened. “You are not his wife.”

“I’m not. And I have no intentions to become that.”

“What little you have shouldn’t replace what he ought to help his own tenants with.”

“ _What little I have_ is sumptuous from their perspective,” Abby said dryly. For the first time in a longest while she was annoyed again by how Marcus saw her. Did he truly believe she would go to bed hungry because of this? She was still a gentlewoman. 

He was silent for a long moment, looking repentant. 

“I apologize. It speaks loudly of your character that you want to do this and that is exactly why... people admire you. However, once you marry and move away, you may need to ask one of your friends to extend their helping hand over Mr Jaha’s lands, otherwise the negligence will continue.”

Abby frowned at him. “Once I marry?”

He snapped his head towards her, startled. Abby quirked one bemused eyebrow at him.  “I... I actually meant to...” he started, his face colouring slightly.

He paused and fixed his gaze forward again. “That is exactly why I sought you out today. We have matters to discuss.”

Abby wrinkled her brow. She thought she had made it clear Marcus ought not to concern himself with her future. 

Marcus began. “I think it would be a marvelous idea if-“

A horse-drawn hay wagon appeared on the road ahead of them. Marcus snapped his mouth shut. A farmer holding the reins touched his hat at them as he passed by, smiling. Abby smiled back at him. 

“-if you and Miss Griffin attended the dinner at Polis Park tonight,” Marcus finished, just after the wagon had disappeared.

Abby hid her delighted smile. “That would be my pleasure,” she said, perhaps a little too quickly. She didn’t want to seem overeager to spend time with him; she was still too vulnerable to express how much she had truly missed him.

But then she remembered Clarke and what she had ordered Abby to say in case of any dinner invitation to Polis Park. 

“Actually... my daughter is feeling a little ill so I’m afraid I have to decline.” 

She pretended not to be too observant of the way his face fell, instead directing her gaze to her feet. 

“That is a shame. I was hoping to-“ Marcus shook his head. “It is of no rush. I will welcome you to dinner any day Miss Griffin is feeling better.”

“And we would be glad to accept.”

“In the meantime, please allow me to send some of our leftover game to your cottage. I actually depended on your presence at our table - Miss Woods is entirely too eager of a hunter for our mouths alone.”

“Marcus, you know I cannot possibly-“

“I will deliver the meat to rot on your doorstep regardless of whether or not you accept it. Please, do not let good food go to waste,” he objected. Abby sighed. Sometimes it wasn’t of any use to fight back against his goodwill.

Marcus seemed to be eager to say something else to her as well, but whenever he opened his mouth a passer-by or two would appear and silence him again. In the end, he tipped his hat clumsily at her, promised to see her soon and urged his horse into a trot. Abby was left watching wistfully after him. 

He made good of his promise. In the evening, two footmen from Polis Park came bearing gifts; one whole hare, four partridges and pigeons, two pheasants, a haunch of venison and a quarter lamb alongside with a generous side offering of potatoes, turnips, carrots, cucumbers, tomatoes, cabbage and even basketfuls of exotic treats such as pears, oranges and pomegranates. On top of everything, bewildered Abby was presented with two bottles of medicinal elder wine for Clarke.

Mrs Byrne almost fainted the moment she opened the door to their larder. 

“Lord truly giveth back!” the woman chuckled almost maniacally later that day, busy salting and smoking all the meat with Abby. The latter was less overjoyed.

She was planning on writing a strong-worded note to Marcus about the insult of the excessive amount of food he had sent, but such intentions were forgotten as the whole household feasted that night with the grandest supper they have had in months.

At the end of the night, she brought Clarke a cup of wine to soothe her sleep. The girl was sniffling under covers, and Abby’s heart ached. 

The next morning came a card from Miss Woods which Clarke grabbed and read voraciously, but it was not enough to urge Clarke to visit her or even answer her. Abby was growing concerned. If even the opportunity to see Sir Lincoln didn’t tempt her to rise from bed, what did?

She decided to walk to the town to visit Callie for advice, but her journey was intercepted again. It was curious how Marcus happened to choose the same routes as her for his daily outings, but she would be lying if she claimed she was not pleased. 

He asked to join her company, but remained silent for most of their walk, seeming extraordinarily agitated for some reason. She walked in his arm to the town and back, and when it was the time to part and Marcus still couldn’t get any words out, she promised to dine with him as soon as Clarke was better. 

However, her daughter’s mood showed no signs of improvement while Marcus kept on joining her for her daily walks. It was so embarrassing to be forced to keep declining dinner invitations and receive gifts of game and produce in return that in the end, Abby had no other choice but to shyly invite him to eat with them instead. 

Marcus declined curtly. 

The next morning she spent in bed, agitated that she had overstepped the fragile boundaries of their friendship in some terrible way when Jackson rushed upstairs to announce a gentleman caller. With help from her maid, she was hurriedly dressed in her Sunday gown. Clarke was wrenched off from her bed as well and told to be exceedingly courteous to Lord Kane.

Marcus’ first visit was agreeable, if only a little awkward. The first few moments she and him spent sitting in silence while Jackson served tea and biscuits, and Clarke stared at Marcus as if he was some strange beast from overseas that had broken out of his cage. 

Abby couldn’t help but smooth out the fabric of her gown every few moments, glancing self-consciously around. Never before had their home truly looked more cramped and shabby. Fortunately, Marcus seemed to be only interested in looking at her and her only.

He finally broke the silence by inquiring after Clarke’s health. After her polite reply, the room grew terribly quiet again. The only sound was the clink of the porcelain as they all simultaneously picked up their teacups. Marcus stared into space while sipping his tea, seemingly in deep contemplation, only glancing at Abby’s nervous smile every now and then. Finally, he fixed his intent gaze on the window.

“What a beautiful little garden you have. Perhaps Mrs Griffin could kindly give me a short tour-“

But Abby had already opened her mouth in a question at the same time. “How is your daughter?”

Marcus’ expression brightened, as always when it came to that topic. He recounted them the contents of her latest letter word by word. 

_Her performance of his latest piece delighted everyone. Her pianoforte is marvellous for playing duets, she told me. Do you play, Miss Griffin?_

_She kept telling me how much she enjoyed her trip to Peak District. Would you be interested in visiting it someday, Miss Griffin?_

_Wasn’t that a fun tale? She truly does adore her horse. Such a beautiful creature. What do you think, Miss Griffin, do you have the aptitude for riding?_

Alarmingly, Clarke’s expression kept tightening and tightening as the questions continued coming. Abby observed her daughter anxiously, gripping her teacup with white knuckles. 

“I almost forgot, Miss Woods send her regards,” Marcus said. 

Clarke leaped off the sofa. 

“I find myself feeling unwell. I must excuse myself.”

With that said, she turned his back at them and marched to the stairs, leaving Marcus utterly confused in her wake. Abby rushed to repair the damage. 

“Please do not mind. She does tire out easily.”

Marcus looked forlorn for a second, then grabbed his hat. “Perhaps I have overstayed my welcome.” He rose from his chair. 

“Wait just a moment,” Abby pleaded and ran out of the room. When she returned, Marcus hadn’t fortunately left and was waiting patiently for her, albeit with his hat still in his hands.

“I never returned your handkerchief,” she said, holding it carefully in her hands. 

“Oh. That is really of no conseque-“

“Here.” She handed it over. It was such a silly little thing she had done with it, just something to fill her spare time with, but she hoped he’d appreciate it, regardless. 

 “It was so terribly plain I just had to do a little embroidering. It looks much more beautiful now.” She looked shyly down. “Every lord should have a handkerchief with their initials.”

Marcus stared at the piece of fabric in his hands like it was the loveliest thing he had ever beheld in his life. He brushed his thumb over his initials, and the little flowery trimming Abby had embroidered into the edge, looking overcome with some strong, unidentifiable emotion. 

“Thank you, Abby,” he whispered. “I will treasure it.”

He folded the handkerchief with uttermost care into his breast pocket. He then lifted his eyes and looked at her so ardently Abby felt uncharacteristically coy and couldn’t meet his gaze.

The whole encounter left her so flustered that after he had left, she had to learn against the door frame for many long moments in order to compose herself again. Marcus certainly had had a strange effect on her as of late. _The way he had looked at her!_

 After she had finally regathered her wits, she set her mind on chastising her daughter for her rude behaviour and climbed upstairs. 

“What was I supposed to do?” the girl hissed. “Sit there and keep listening to him praise his daughter to heavens and allow myself to be trodden down like a silly poor country girl I am? Yes, yes, Lord Kane, your daughter speaks languages, plays the pianoforte, sings and rides and travels, she truly is better than me in every conceivable way!”

“You are not a silly poor country girl,” Abby said sternly. “Don’t let anyone ever make you feel so! But you must understand Lord Kane was only trying to make pleasant conversation.”

“Perhaps he should have more practice,” she scoffed. “Aptitude for riding, bah! Where does he think we’re hiding a horse, under our kitchen table? And then he just had to bring up Lexa...”

Abby petted her daughter’s hair as the girl quietly seethed. “Why exactly are you at odds with her? You never really told me, dearest.”

Clarke looked like she was about to burst into tears. “She-, she- she said that I needed to marry her brother,” she stuttered, as if she couldn’t believe her own words either.

Abby was utterly confused for a moment. Didn’t Clarke adore Sir Lincoln? His sister’s approval ought to mean a lot to her. 

In a moment, however, she realised that the true problem was Miss Woods’ wording. _Needed to_. She had to be afraid that Clarke, despite all evidence, would marry below her class and they couldn’t associate anymore. It was an offensive assumption, and Abby could certainly understand why Clarke was upset about it. 

“You don’t _need_ to do anything, dearest. You are going to marry the one you love, regardless of consequence of wealth or any other factor. If it’s Sir Lincoln, Miss Woods would indeed be happy for you, and she means only well, but if it’s not Sir Lincoln, Miss Woods ought to be happy for you nevertheless. It’s _your_ choice.”

Clarke had started weeping even before Abby had finished her speech, leaving her feeling she had somehow said the wrong thing. 

 

* * *

 

 

Marcus returned to Polis Park, his breast pocket burning as he was carrying an ember.

He deemed that the best way to go about it was not to look Lady Trigeda ever in the eye again. For the moment their gazes met, she would _know_ Marcus had started courting Abby.

Marcus would have to lock the room they kept the rifles in. 

It was not as if she would understand. For Marcus to go from resentment to indifference to friendly affection to matrimonial designs in a matter of months was strange enough for an outside observer, but Lady Trigeda would eagerly take that as solid proof for her own skewed view of the situation. She would be delighted to declare that she had been right all along, that he had been in love with Abby the moment he had seen her again and had just been too proud to admit it. 

The truth was more complicated.

What he felt for Abby was not love. It was duty and chivalry, tenderness and friendly affection. He was devoted to her as Jake’s wife and his dear friend. Of course he would do everything in his power to care for her. And if the only way he could ensure her security and happiness in the future was marrying her, he would do it.

Now that he thought about it, wasn’t it exactly what Jake had meant by his request to tend to her? It was truly the most sensible, self-evident option - a match made out of sheer practicality.

Marcus smiled as he entered his study and sat down at his desk, grabbing a sheet of paper and a quill.

He was going to ask her to marry him.

It was as if a tremendous weight had been lifted off his chest as the image of Abby standing at the altar with another man crumbled away. It would be Marcus who joined hands with her and vowed himself to her. He would make sure Mr Jaha wouldn’t even be allowed into the church. If he secured her hand by the end of the week, he could even arrange for her belongings to be gathered from the ramshackle cottage of hers and taken to Polis Park where she and her daughter would stay until the nuptials. She wouldn’t have to be uncomfortable for even one more day under his care.

 

The two women would be in want for nothing for the rest of their lives. He would love Miss Griffin like his own daughter. Her paintings would be hung on every wall of the Eden House, and he would make sure she had a new ball gown for every season. No more militia fops for the girl - he would take her to London every winter until the girl would have too many respectable suitors to know what to do with. Abby would never again be weighed down by worries for her daughter’s future, he would make sure of it. 

And as for _her_... 

Abby would be happy again. If nothing else, he could offer the independence and comforts she had enjoyed as a young wife, with none of the drawbacks; Marcus loved Jake dearly, but he was not blind to some of the mistakes he had made. This time around, there would be no misery, no misunderstandings, and certainly nothing akin to late Lady Griffin’s oppressive presence.

Marcus still shuddered when he thought about Jake’s mother.

Vera would be nothing like her. Abby would love her, and she would whole-heartedly love Abby, along with his daughter.

She would be _treasured_ at his home. A fireplace would be blazing in every room she set their foot in, she would have as many servants and books and paintings and musical instruments as she wished, and the freedom to govern and go as she pleased. He would even take part in the local society with her for some time so she’d gain new friends - albeit she would need very little help. He couldn’t see why anyone wouldn’t love her. 

His wedding present for her would be a beautiful dappled mare, similar to the one she had used to ride in Sussex and after which he’d had to chase countless of times.

_Oh, the way she had smiled at him back then..._

Not that he was entitled to her smiles - or anything else from her, Marcus thought treacherously. He would keep his displays of affection at that one moment he had allowed himself to caress her cheek, and that would be it. There were a plenty of marriages which never went beyond that. He would let her know as soon as possible that he expected nothing.

That is, if Abby even accepted him.

Marcus lowered the quill, suddenly agitated. As much hope she had given him recently, it was difficult to imagine anything but terror falling on Abby’s features whenever he got the opportunity to be alone with her, take her hand and make his intentions known. She could think he was jesting or worse, in love with her.

Surely, he tried to encourage himself, if she gave him time to explain himself carefully there would be no mistaking his motives. She had to care for him enough to listen to him and try to understand. He was no fool, he would allow her time to consider, but as much as full of fire and obstinacy she sometimes was, she was still sensible and would realise that they both wanted the best for her daughter. 

There might be some blushing and some stuttering, but in the end, Marcus could picture her eventually coming to him, lowering her hand on his and whispering the sweetest word of English language into his ear.

He was broken out of his reverie as he realised a huge blot of ink had spread on his letter, right at the end of the sentence _“I’m bringing her home as my wife.”_

_It is decided then,_ Marcus thought, lifting the paper and studying whether the letter to Octavia could still be salvaged. Suddenly, he was overwhelmed with homesickness. How he longed to be able to talk to her about all this in person.

He knew Octavia would be overjoyed to have a mother in Abby, but still, he worried. He picked up his locket and opened it to look at Octavia, only for the piece of paper he had so carefully folded in to fall out.

Ah.

It was some cruel irony just now to lay his eyes on that horrible letter. It was as if God Himself was warning him not to pursue this plan.

He couldn’t help but open up the frayed, worn paper, hoping that Abby hadn’t recognised as he had taken it out of the locket in the carriage. The inked letters were so faded he could barely read them, but he didn’t need them to read every word aloud by heart. 

_Please burn this letter_ , was the final sentence, the final thing ever asked of him. As always, he felt a twinge of guilt after reading it. He hadn’t had the heart to burn it. The letter was a cruel reminder he needed to absorb every so often. It warned him of his past mistakes, of his guilt and regret. And most importantly, of _her_.

_Never again._

If his past self could see him now, he’d want to beat himself to a bloody pulp for even wanting to come for Abby all these years later. There was no guessing how he would have reacted if he had known his future self would plan marrying her without a tinge of self-irony. 

Marcus grumbled the letter roughly. His 22-year-old self had been an idiot. What did he know?

He thew the letter to his unlit fireplace. He had punished himself enough by carrying that damned thing around for years. It was time to let go.

After a moment, Marcus came downstairs. Lady Trigeda and Miss Woods were in the parlour, reading. The younger woman could hardly focus on her book, so downcast and distressed she appeared.  She shot up from her chair as she saw Marcus enter the room.

“Are you going to call on the Griffins?” she asked eagerly.

“I just came from there,” Marcus said, frowning a little to see Miss Woods in such a state. “I’m sorry to say Miss Griffin still seems unable to return a visit.”

“Ah.” Miss Woods looked twice as crushed as before. 

“So,” Lady Trigeda said, snapping her book shut. “You went to see _her_ again.”

It felt as if her gaze could burn through fabric and discover the handkerchief. 

“Yes I did,” Marcus said coolly. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason. It pleases me you’re getting along. That was my objective all along, wasn’t it?”

Marcus grudgingly nodded. “I’m happy to call her my friend again.”

“Amongst other things,” she said under breath. 

“What was that?”

But Lady Trigeda had already resumed her reading and acted as if she had not heard him. Marcus let out a frustrated huff and marched out of the parlour.

“Kane,” Miss Woods called out. Marcus turned his head and saw her skittering to him with a fire under her tail.

“What is it?”

Miss Woods spoke with an almost incomprehensible rapidity. “You are going to marry Mrs Griffin soon, aren’t you? And you’re bringing her and Miss Griffin all the way to Derbyshire with you?”

Marcus blinked. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. He truly hadn’t expected Miss Woods of all people to ask about it so directly, and he didn’t know how to best answer her question, given that her mother and who-knew-how-many servants were listening close by. However, the poor girl looked like her entire world depended on his answer, so Marcus had no other choice but to whisper his response to her.

“After the wedding, you may spend every summer at Eden House, and I shall send Miss Griffin to your town house every winter.”

Miss Woods smiled gratefully at him, and Marcus smiled at her in return.

When Marcus lifted his gaze, he saw that Lady Trigeda was standing in the doorway, having listened to their every word. He froze and braced himself for a swarm of snide, victorious comments.

To his great surprise, he saw Lady Trigeda radiating pure, unadulterated happiness at him instead.

_May I wish you joy?_ She mouthed at him. Her eyes were shining. 

_Soon_ , Marcus answered, suddenly feeling himself filling with joy as well. 

Truly, he had never before seen Lady Trigeda smile so brightly. 

 

* * *

 

Abby was baking bread with Clarke in the kitchen when the girl, as if having received a premonition, rose from her seat and walked to the window. Clarke’s face twisted as she looked out. “Just as I expected. It’s Kane, coming down the road to our cottage like yesterday and the day before that. I can’t believe her!” she scowled, tearing off her apron. She darted across the room the very next moment. 

“Her?” Abby parroted, confused. “Where are you going, dearest?”

“Out. Before he calls on us.” Clarke practically assaulted the rack in the hall in her furious search for her outer garments. “It is evident, is it not, that Miss Woods sent him to hound after me? She clearly wants to know why I keep declining her dinner invitations.”

Abby crossed her arms, an amused smile spreading across her lips as she watched Clarke trying to wrap herself in her pelisse. “As much as Lord Kane would like to help you two to resolve your quarrels, I’m certain he is above accepting the commission of a lowly spy.”

“Why else would he visit so often? It’s either that...”

Clarke snapped her head towards her mother, a strange look on her face. “...Or he is courting you.”

The two women held each other’s gaze for a long moment until they both dissolved into raucous laughter.

“You truly invent the most delightful jests,” Abby chuckled, albeit a little unsurely. “It is ludicrous that Marcus would regard me in that way.”

She halted as she noticed that her daughter had stopped laughing. She was gaping at her with round eyes. 

“Lord Kane,” she corrected herself, a little too late.

Clarke concentrated on tying up the ribbons of her bonnet, peering at her mother thoughtfully from under the rim. “Although he does stare at you funnily sometimes.”

Abby flushed. “He does not-“

“You stare back at him just as much. If you call him by his given name, does he call you Abby?”

“I- No-, that was a mistake.”

Suddenly, Clarke looked more mature than Abby had ever beheld her before.

“Do not give him hope if there is none to be given,” she said with a low, serious voice. 

With that said, she opened the back door and disappeared through it, leaving Abby alone with her head whirling. 

This had to be first time she had been chastised by her own child, and on such a bizarre, laughable basis.

For some reason, however, she felt that this was far from a laughing matter. She sat down on the stairs, drawing her knees against her chest. She remained still for a long time trying to make sense of muddled thoughts. 

_Give him hope... ridiculous!_

When Jackson and Mrs Byrne came in through the backdoor, carrying a heavy churn of milk, they did not notice her. They kept on conversing together. 

“I can scarce wait to be established at Lord Kane’s household,” Mrs Byrne huffed. “Gone are the days where I have to carry sackfuls of wheat and potatoes and milk from the town to sate Mrs Sidney’s appetite whenever she invites herself over. Lord Kane will have more servants he can count to do such a chore.”

“If Abby could afford male help, you know she wouldn’t have you do that. She will lessen your duties as soon as she’s able to. Besides, Kane hardly seems benevolent enough to let us eat with the family like Abby, and I doubt he’d give us as big of a room.”

“I would sleep in stables at Eden House if it meant I had a command of its kitchen. And I would never have to listen to your snoring again!”

“I don’t understand how you could so selfishly approve of a match with our mistress and such a cold, unfeeling man.”

“I don’t care about his character. All that is important is that he is so in love with her that he will do her bidding. She never has to lift a finger again.”

“How are you so certain she’ll accept?”

“Have you seen the way Mrs Griffin looks at him? He won’t even have time to bend his knee before she starts nodding so vigorously her jaw might fly off. And she’ll probably weep. I’d weep if I had her looks and had still remained a widow for 8 years-“

Abby cleared her throat, startling both of the ladies. Mrs Byrne leaped almost two feet up in the air.

“May I partake in the conversation of my future well?” Abby asked dryly, rising.

“We are terribly sorry. We thought you were-.”

“Jackson, I’m disappointed. How come you didn’t correct Mrs Byrne on her assumption that Lord Kane has a... particular regard for me?”

Jackson looked frightened at first for having offended her terribly, but then she drew her brow together in a confused manner. “Surely you’re aware that he...?”

Rather than finishing the sentence, she leaped to her next point. “That doesn’t mean you are obligated to accept him! No man can think so highly of himself as to expect you to overlook his character and conduct only for the sake of his love for you.”

Abby coloured. She suddenly felt faint enough to need to seize the handrail and lean against the wall. “Jackson, I must assure you that you’re entirely mistaken.”

Jackson approached Abby with a concerned frown but Abby shifted before she could offer her any assistance, fixing a determined expression on her face.

“Lord Kane doesn’t esteem me more than he does any other female acquaintances he has in this town. From now on, I’d ask you to hold your tongue about matters such as this. Such a baseless rumour would greatly distress him were it to reach his ears.”

Now both Jackson and Mrs Byrne looked at Abby as if she had just violently struck her head. 

“Madam,” Mrs Byrne began carefully. “I do not wish to offend you, but Lord Kane has called on you 10 times-“

“-this past fortnight,” Jackson finished for her, her brow still knotted in great concern. 

“Oh,” was all Abby could muster. 

“Don’t forget all the gifts he keeps sending our way. Just yesterday he sent over charcoal sticks, watercolours and canvas boards all the way from London just for Clarke. Had you not noticed?”

“He’s... only being helpful,” Abby said weakly.

“Didn’t you embroider a handkerchief as a token of affection for him as well?”

“I-“

Her encounters with Marcus during the past fortnight rushed through her mind like jumbled flashes from a dream. There was a loud buzzing in her head, or perhaps it was only the string of _No No No No No No_ s ringing in her ears. 

_It cannot be._

_He would never..._

_Never again._

As she recalled the way Marcus had looked at her with the handkerchief in his hands, her grip of the handrail slackened.

Having ended up on her bottom on the floor, she let out a rather hysteric, desperate laugh.

“Get her smelling salts from the cabinet,” Jackson whispered to Mrs Byrne. The woman rushed away.

“I’m perfectly well,” Abby said, not feeling well at all. “I’m afraid this has all just been a ridiculous misunderstanding. Lord Kane is my friend.”

“You’re as pale as a ghost. Perhaps it would be best if we got you to-“

Abby suddenly shot up, startling Jackson. “I’m certain we’ll all be laughing about this in the future,” she said, forcing the tiniest amount of mirth into her voice.

Jackson looked scared as Abby made a sharp left turn.

“Where are you going, Abby?”

“I feel myself in want of a fresh air,” she said calmly, clenching both of her hands into tiny fists. _I’m being foolish. I’m being foolish. I’m being foolish._ “When I come back, I’d appreciate if we would never, under no circumstances, treat Lord Kane, speak of him, or even think of him as _a suitor_ again.

She didn’t hear Jackson’s reply for she had already ran out of the door. 

She marched down to their little vegetable garden in the backyard. She closed her eyes by the potato bed and listened to the wind, hoping it would help soothe her nerves. She didn’t get to enjoy her solitude for too long until a familiar voice filled the air. 

“Is everything alright, Abby?”

She opened her eyes.

_Marcus._

He was standing only the shortest distance from her by the path to the garden. The wind was sending curls of his dark hair flying while he watched Abby with a concerned frown on his handsome face. 

She did not know whether her strongest urge at the moment was to flee or to tell him everything that had just transpired and hope he’d laugh along. 

Just then she realised she was still wearing her dirty apron. Cheeks burning, she dropped her shaking hands in front of her and looked up at him. “I’m sorry. I should’ve expected your visit.”

“Tell me what’s wrong.” Marcus took a step forward. Abby remained rooted in her place.

“Nothing at all. If you came to see how Clarke is faring, I’m sorry to say you just missed her. She is.. having a refreshing walk outside.”

“I know,“ he breathed out. 

A beat.

“I waited for her to leave,” he confessed, studying Abby’s reaction.

She kept silent for a moment, trying to pretend Marcus hadn’t said anything. “It is windy. We should go inside,” she said hurriedly. “Miss Jackson will make us some tea.”

She turned to leave, but Marcus didn’t allow her. He had captured one of her hand within his and was holding onto it gently. “Let’s stay here for a moment,” he asked softly.

Then he lowered himself on one knee, right over her potato bed. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby tries to process Marcus' offer of marriage. A secret gets out at the ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An extra long chapter for you tonight. Shit goes down.

When Mrs Byrne returned downstairs with the smelling salts, she saw Jackson staring through the window with wild eyes, her palms pressed against the glass. 

"What is it now? Has the pig escaped again?" she called out.

"Lord Kane is proposing to Abby in the vegetable garden!"

The salts were discarded like rubbish on the floor as Mrs Byrne rushed to join the audience with her skirts flaring. "Some room please!" she said, pushing Jackson aside. "What is happening? Is she turning him down?"

"I wish I knew," Jackson grumbled. They could only see two small figures in the distance, one on his knee, one standing. They seemed to be conversing. 

"If I squint, they don't look too happy," Jackson commented, only to be hushed by Mrs Byrne. 

Soon they witnessed Abby lowering herself on Marcus' level. Jackson's eyes widened. 

"That ought to ruin her gown," Mrs Byrne observed. Jackson turned away from the sight. "I cannot watch. She is going to accept, isn't she?"

"We shall see."

The scene went on for a long while. The conversation between the two figures seemed animated, but there was no telling of their emotional state. Eventually, Lord Kane rose, causing Abby to stand up too, but their speech did not halt. Their movements grew frantic. One of them started pacing, but they could no longer distinguish who. 

For a moment the two figures came so close it looked they were embracing. Jackson's face fell. 

"I'll wager on a yes," Mrs Byrne remarked. 

"I'll wager on Abby having enough sense to make the right choice," Jackson said gruffly. 

"Which would be refusing him then?"

Jackson pretended to be interested in arranging some flowers in a vase and only nodded gleefully after they both saw the taller figure abruptly turn and march away. The shorter figure remained standing still, watching the other walk away. 

Jackson didn't waste a moment. As they heard the whinny of Lord Kane's horse, marking that he had come to fetch the animal from the front yard, she skittered out of the door to go after the man. Mrs Byrne rolled her eyes.

The younger maid returned in a moment, scarcely able to hide her contentment. "He  just go rejected, there's no doubt about it. I pretended to see him for the first time today. Asked him for tea and promised to call for Abby. He looked straight through me in that sad, lifeless sort of way. Poor man. What a terrible disappointment for him." 

"Wipe that smile off your face before Mrs Griffin comes back. She wouldn't appreciate you being that favorable of her refusal. It is always painful to turn someone down," Mrs Byrne sighed, mourning the position at Eden House that had been so close to her reach. 

Abby returned only after many long moments when the two servants had already grown worried. Her face was sickly pale and her eyes red-rimmed. It was as if she had been weeping for hours. She did not say a word until Jackson had helped her off her dirty apron, heated her a hot watter bottle and helped her into bed with it. 

"Do you ever feel like you're trapped in a vicious cycle?" she whispered, lying on the mattress. 

Jackson wrinkled her brow. "What you mean?"

"No matter what I do, I end up hurting someone in the same way over and over again."

"I take it you refused Lord Kane. There's no need to feel-"

"I did not. Perhaps that was the problem." 

Jackson froze. "You did _not_ refuse?" she repeated, shocked. 

But Abby's thoughts were already elsewhere. Footsteps, clatter and lively voices were coming from downstairs. Abby wiped her eyes. "That must be Clarke. Please, don't let her know anything is amiss."

"Is anything _amiss_?" Jackson asked, squinting her eyes. She would give every penny in her purse and then some to know whether an engagement had taken place or not.

"Lord Kane never stopped by," Abby reminded sternly. Then she fixed an impeccable smile on her face with almost frightening efficiency and dried the last wet patches on her cheeks before descending the stairs. 

Clarke was all smiles despite trying to evidently suppress her emotions. Sir Lincoln and his sister had encountered her on the road and presented her with a personal invitation to the ball. 

"Miss Woods wants me to dance with absolutely _everyone_ at the ball," she smilingly recounted. 

Abby supposed that was as good as apology as any. 

"That is nice. Perhaps Sir Lincoln reserved the right to the first two dances for the fear of such competition?"

To that Clarke did not answer, looking uncomfortable. Instead, she asked whether Lord Kane had called on her mother. Abby did not answer. Both women looked guiltily away as the result of their conversation. 

Abby stayed downstairs after Clarke had gone to her room. She lifted one of the  pillows on the sofa and picked up a rose she had hid there. She sat down, cradled the flower against her chest, allowing the regret to was over her now that she was finally alone again. 

Before this day, the last time Abby had been proposed to was five years ago. Three years after Jake's death, after three years in a little cottage of Hertfordshire, Mr Sinclair approached her and asked her to marry him. 

It was the most kind offer. Abby could see he fancied himself somewhat besotted with her. He was amiable, generous and had kind eyes, but most importantly, he was a gentleman with wealth and consequence. It would have undoubtedly been a tranquil and a pleasant marriage with no troubles in the world. She would've been a fool to decline in her situation. 

She did just that.

Abby let him down gently. He was terribly disappointed, but only a year later Abby was able to direct his interest to her friend Callie instead, and fortunately so. The pair fell madly in love with each other and were now united in the happiest marriage Abby had ever beheld. Today, when she saw Mr Sinclair, she felt no regret or sorrow. She only felt a quiet sort of happiness for him and Callie. 

Only sometimes she wondered what made her say no. She normally prided herself in her sensibility. This had not been a rational decision by any means. 

Her heart had simply refused, and that was the end of it. 

Her heart had been telling quite different things when faced with Marcus on his knee in front of her. 

* * *

 

_Marcus seemed to be searching for the right words to say._

_It looked as if he had only thought about his actions to the moment he kneeled in front of her. He looked completely lost for a second, then realised to reach for something inside his jacket. He brought forth a small white rose._

_"From the hothouse," he said hoarsely, pressing it on Abby's hand. She was too numb to say anything or express any emotion at all, but her fingers did obediently curl around the stem._

_He looked relieved to see Abby accept the rose. He shifted to correct his position a little, his bad leg undoubtedly giving him pain. "Abby, I..."_

_"Please stop this foolishness and stand up! I cannot bear to see you in pain," Abby cried out, her composure starting to crack._

_"It's quite alright," Marcus chuckled. "I'm a fool for not doing this in the carriage weeks ago, aren't I?"_

_A horrifying, sinking realisation of her own blindness struck Abby as Marcus rambled on._

_"You know I cannot make speeches, Abby," he said softly. "But I trust you to understand what kind of a warm regard drives me to ask for your h-"_

_Abby covered her eyes with her free hand. "Why are you doing this to yourself Marcus?" she asked, her voice trembling._

_Marcus showed no sign of surprise or embarrassment at her less than flattering reaction. He brushed his thumb comfortingly over her knuckles and started reciting an address that seemed to have been meticulously rehearsed._

_"I wholly understand your reluctance. It must not be easy to receive an offer like this, particularly from me of all people. However, if you could kindly listen to the practical advantages of this union which are the following..."_

_"Please tell me this is only one of your attempts to make me take a cheque from you."_

_"I thought I made myself clear," Marcus said, a little bemused. He tilted his head in an infuriatingly endearing manner. "I'm asking you to marry me."_

_Abby clenched her eyes shut. "Why?"_

_"Why?" A familiar deep crease appeared on his forehead. "Um, I studied the advantages of our union in light of our mutual affection, my promise to Jake and your situation, and I came to the decision that this would be the most agreeable plan of action-"_

_"What part of me not wanting you to arrange my life for me did you not understand?" she hissed._

_Marcus' face fell. "If your grand plan is to lead a miserable, poor life in some dark damp corner of the Town, I will be ever so presumptious!" he said sternly._

_Her mind returned to their conversation at the dressmaker's. She began to see where she had erred. No wonder Marcus was so eager to bend his knee, he must have been terrified of the prospects of future she had laid out in front of him. Marcus was like any other clueless gentleman on that front. A woman of gentle birth having to support herself was a fate worse than death to him. She might as well have grabbed his hands, looked him in the eye and told him she had no choice but to start selling her body in the streets of London. Knowing Marcus, it was a wonder he had not proposed to her right then and there._

_However, even though the meager future she had told him about was in no way objectionable come the need for it, it wouldn't be her lot. After all, she had only told him a part of the truth._

_She attempted a smile. "You're speaking as if I'm doomed to end up in a poorhouse."_

_"I would rather take my own life than see that happen."_

_Marcus looked so sincere Abby didn't have it in her heart to ridicule his dramatics. Unless she somehow succeeded in causing both her and her daughter to be shunned from all good society, Marcus' nightmarish vision was only hogwash._

_"You know very well that will never happen."_

_"It might not. But I could not be happy if I didn't know for certain."_

_"I shouldn't have said what I said in that dress shop. You're acting on an impulse, an honorable one, but an impulse nonethless-"_

_"For god's sake, Abby! Do you really think I haven't thought this through? No promise you could ever give to me about your future's security will comfort me. How do I know that a year from now you're not sick in some strangers' home that don't care enough to send a doctor for you? Or that you're not married to a man who won't hesitate to raise his hand against you? Don't you dare claim I haven't thought about little else the whole time I've been in this county!"_

_Abby's throat was dry as she watched Marcus visibly tremble. He was in the state of extreme agitation. If it was possible for one's entire conviction to scatter to the wind, Marcus' words certainly did the trick for her._

_"I- I didn't realize you had given it that much thought."_

_Marcus made some frustrated motions with his head. "How could I not..."_

_His voice faded away and suddenly Abby couldn't bear to look down at him. She lowered herself at his level and, gingerly, touched his shoulder in a comforting gesture._

_"I'll be alright. I really will be."_

_Marcus stared at her hand for a moment. He then lowered his own hand on top of hers and looked Abby firmly in the eye, fraught with emotion._

_"This is not a selfish request."_

_Abby swallowed. "I know.'_

_"Your wellbeing means too much for me not to do this. I know I can take care of you. I know I might be able to you happy. I promise I will try my everything to achieve that. All I'm asking is for you to let me."_  

_Abby's heart was thundering in her ears._

_"Marcus..." she pleaded._

_He said nothing more. Everything he wanted was already laid in the open, and now he could only wait for her answer, his gaze downcast._

_Her heart lodged in her throat. She covered her eyes with her hand to avoid looking at Marcus._

_She was going to say yes to him, wasn't she?_

* * *

The morning after the proposal Abby learned that Marcus had gone to the Town on urgent business. He would miss the ball and perhaps stay in London for the rest of the winter before returning to Derbyshire. Abby was not too surprised, but the news still rendered her a hollow shell for the rest of the day. 

_Their friendship had been pleasant while it had lasted._

Clarke was fortunately so over the moon during the week before the ball that she did not take notice of Abby's low spirits. She smiled like a fool every time Jackson or Mrs Byrne even mentioned the impending festivities and ran to her room at regular intervals to inspect that her gown was still as beautiful as last time she had seen it. Abby could not even bear to look at her own. 

She got through the week by reminding herself that she was doing this for Clarke. She would chaperone her to the ball, smile at her while she danced with Sir Lincoln and make sure her night would be perfect. She would not ruin it by weeping over Marcus of all people. 

The morning of the ball Jackson helped her dress into her elegant white gown. When the maid got her claws on Abby's thick long hair with hairpins, combs and curling papers ready, she suddenly felt like it was all too much. 

"Could it be just a braid this time?" 

Jackson quirked her eyebrow. She obediently braided her hair, but took the freedom to curl Abby's familiar old friend, the long strand of hair that constantly escaped heir hairdo to unfurl against the side of her face. The braid she decorated with pearls. 

When Jackson had left to help Clarke, Abby picked up the white rose she had left on her dressing table and fastened it to her hair. She stared at her reflection numbly, adjusted the rose, sighed and finally rose up. She felt foolish. 

Clarke's hair was pulled back in a beautiful chignon with her most expensive trinket, a silver comb that Miss Woods had gifted her in London holding her curls together. The light green gown they had picked together looked absolutely breathtaking on her. When Abby told her so, she just laughed but sneaked one more glance at the mirror to catch a glimpse of the comb in her hair.

Sir Lincoln's carriage dropped them off at Polis Park. Abby had some amusement in Mrs Sidney's face as she saw them step out of it, but even the relief of witnessing Diana toss her head back, in a way that promised no affected friendliness during the night, did not manage to lift her mood. 

Sir Lincoln turned around and smiled sunnily at them the moment the footman announced their arrival. He walked briskly to greet them, followed by her mother and half-sister. Clarke and Miss Woods ran to each other, exchanging a kiss of friendship. Their relationship appeared to be harmonious again. 

"It is a pleasure to have you here tonight. Miss Griffin, you look enchanting," Sir Lincoln said warmly. 

Clarke beamed at him. "Thank you!" 

Abby beamed along with her, studying the interaction keenly. 

"You must do me the honour of allowing me at least one set during the evening."

"We shall make that happen."

Abby frowned. _Only one set? And not even the opening?_

She did not hear the rest of their conversation. Lady Trigeda had taken her arm and drawn her inconspicuously aside. 

"I did everything I could," she whispered. " _He_ would not hear me. He has undoubtedly retreated somewhere to lick his wounds and feel sorry for himself. But trust me, he _will_ come back for you."

Abby's cheeks were aflame. She had never been a subject of such bold speech in her life. 

"Uhm," she said, looking around. Thankfully she soon spotted Callie. "Thank you for the invitation and for that... assurance. Now I see my friend and I must go greet her."

She practically run to Callie. The blessed woman immediately dropped all her other confabulations and greeted Abby with a kiss. 

"Thank heavens you're here. Promise to never leave my side tonight, I might just lose my mind otherwise," Abby pleaded. 

"I shall. I won't even dance with my husband no matter how much he begs," Callie jested. 

"Perhaps it's for the best," Abby said, gazing at her friend's rounded belly. "Should I be offended that you did not send me as much as a note about another one on the way?"

"I was hoping that this time you would not raise a fuss so early!"

"Never."

Abby's usual outburst of elation at Callie's new pregnancy followed. She felt terrible for not having seen for so long and was comforted by Callie's assurances that she had not neglected her. Still, she was intent on spending as much time with her at the ball as she could. They decided to go watch the young people dance together. 

The ballroom was so crowded with spectators that Abby had to leave Callie to look for a seat for her. With some regret, she noticed Clarke was not amongst the dancing pairs. Sir Lincoln was opening the ball with Miss Fox. 

She did not have the time to seek her daughter out with her gaze before colliding with someone else indeed.

"Mrs Griffin!" exclaimed Colonel Pike, grabbing her by the arm to steady her. "Be careful, won't you? It would be loathsome to have you twist your ankle before the ball has even properly started."

"Thank you," Abby said, looking warily at Colonel Pike's hand until he pulled it away.

"Forgive me my boldness, but you look exquisite," he murmured. 

Abby smiled tightly. "You're all politeness. If you could excuse me, I need to look for a seat for my friend. She is with child, you see."

"It looks like she already found one," Colonel said, jerking his head to the direction behind Abby's back. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that Callie had secured herself a chair and was enthusiastically gesturing Abby to continue his conversation with the handsome gentleman. Abby bit her lip.

"I can see you're uncomfortable. Very well. I know you're spoken for, and it was very wicked of me to compliment you despite that. I apologise." He smiled at her and turned to leave. "Give Kane my best regards."

"I'm- I'm not engaged," Abby could not help but croak out.

Colonel Pike halted. "You're not?"

"What made you think so?" she asked, despite knowing she might regret initiating a conversation with him later.

"Forgive me for assuming, but Lord Kane did seem somewhat territorial with you the last time we met."

"It was only because he did not want me to..." Abby began, realising she could not finish the sentence without offending the man.

Colonel let out a sigh. "Has he told something about me?"

Abby did not reply, but he took it as a cue to continue nevertheless. "You must have noticed the cold manner of our meeting some time back. It is the truth that Lord Kane does not find favour in me, and I can do very little about that, but I won't have you believe any lies he has told about me. That just won't do. Tell me what he has said."

"Truly, he has told me nothing. He only ordered me not to speak to you ever again."

Colonel chuckled. "That is our dear old Kane, isn't it? He will have everyone dancing to his tune."

Abby frowned. "Do tell me why you dislike him so."

"That is too mild a word for what I feel towards him."

Colonel Pike lead her out of the room to speak more confidently, and Abby followed him, despite her guilt of doing so. Marcus had warned her about him in very explicit terms. 

However, Abby believed in every man's right to defend himself. She also had particularly strong distaste to following anyone's orders blindly, even if it was Marcus. She would see for herself if Colonel Pike was to be trusted.

The man handed her a glass of wine. "You might need this for this story. It is not meant for womanly sensibilities."

Abby rolled her eyes but sipped her wine nevertheless. 

"You might be surprised to learn that I was not with the militia all my life. In fact, I purchased this position after I was forced to exit the navy. That was thanks to our friend, the Admiral. I suppose I should call him Lord now, but he did not do any more for the King than I did while I was in service so I shall refrain from doing that, for the sake of justice."

He sighed. "I considered us friends once - he had always beena little aloof, but as he got in the taste of price money, he regrettably grew even colder and harder. With time, it become clearer he was not fighting the war for the sake of defeating Napoleon. I think he was only biding his time until he had amassed enough fortune to buy an estate for his daughter and to never set a sail again. That became evident during the battle of Trafalgar."

"I remember him talking about it. I think he mentioned having lost a fellow Admiral. He was very saddened by the fact."

"That fellow Admiral would be me. You look surprised. You probably assumed he was talking of a dead friend, but no, I'm very much alive. He did love to pretend I wasn't, after what had happened. Even though none of it was my fault. 

He chugged down some wine and started explaining.

"I was chasing one of the more tactically significant French sloop-of-wars with my fleet when Kane suddenly pulled back with his own. The battle would be heavy, and he seemingly did not wish to join. Perhaps he feared for his life. Perhaps he thought the ship was too small to be worth the hassle. Still, I did my patriotic duty and intended to sink the bastard."

Colonel Pike's expression darkened. "The battle was severe. It was quickly evident the ships I commanded were not enough to take the fireship down for it was quickly joined by others. We were ambushed. However, instead of coming to my help Kane retreated with his fleet. If he had sacrificed even one of his frigates for help, we would have made it. Instead, 300 men lost their lives in that battle."

"That is terrible," Abby said, feeling sick. 

"What was even more horrendous was Kane's treatment of me after the battle. He claimed that I alone had risked all of the men's lives. He called me a war-hungry, vile creature, complete disregarding the fact that no lives would've been lost if he had come to my help. Perhaps it was his own guilt that led him to treat me as if I was a stranger from that day on. Soon afterwards, I was dismissed from the service, and I still maintain he had something to do with it. But I did not allow that to stop me from serving the King. Thus, I joined the militia."

It was difficult for Abby to believe half of the things Colonel Pike was telling her, but she was glad she had decided to entertain his side of the story. Marcus had scarcely spoken a word of his war experiences. At least she had something to build on now.

"I take this is why you're at odds?"

Colonel Pike shook his head. "I wish it was only that. There was one another thing I must tell you about for it speaks even more of his character than his decisions in the war."

He began his tale.

"We met again, this last spring. He was in the Town with his daughter, and I happened to encounter him at Tattersall's. For a reason or another, he seemed eager to make amends. He invited me to dinner and generously told me to bring one of my officers as well. I did just that and had an evening which was not entirely disagreable. We parted on good terms, and I thought that was the end of it. How wrong I was."

Abby lifted her brow, and Colonel continued. "I do not regret my actions for they were born out of sheer compassion and kindness for young love. The officer I brought with me to dinner was quite taken with Kane's daughter. He pleaded me to take him with me to another dinner so he could see her again, but I could not help him in that regard. I had too much dignity to invite myself over to a man's house I did not even particularly like. However, there was one thing I could do for him. Young Miss Kane had mentioned riding daily with her governess in Hyde Park. I simply rode there with the boy and distracted the governess enough to allow the two to talk. This went on for some days, and soon I saw that Miss Kane and my officer were falling in love. The governess did not like that one bit, but I promised her money to keep quiet. My officer was desperate for more precious time with her and asked me to get rid of the governess altogether. Thus I paid the woman to spend a day at Almack's so the two sweethearts could spend time alone."

"Soon the boy informed that he wanted to ask Miss Kane to marry him, and I gave him my full blessing along with extra wages to help him find a place for her. I did not hear from him for a few weeks. I only got the news that their engagement had fallen apart from the most unlike source. Kane himself stormed into my quarters in the middle of breakfast and took me by the collar. He called meby names I cannot repeat for you in good conscience and threatened me. He wanted the name of the officer that had been courting his daughter. You'll be happy to hear that I did not give it to him or any means to find him. He bellowed at me for some more but after seeing I wouldn't give in, he spat at my feet and left."

"I watched him leave through the window. He had his daughter with him. The poor creature was tearful and quivering, undoubtedly having just faced her father's wrath for loving a boy beneath her station. The officer rejoined my ranks some time later and confirmed my suspicions. Kane had heard of their plans and reacted violently. The poor boy was heartbroken."

"Now I truly despised Kane. He shattered their love only because of trivial things such as wealth and rank. No sailor was born rich; Kane must have been just like my officer as a young man, poor but full of love and dreams. I cannot begin to fathom at which point he began to think of himself and his daughter superior to everyone else. He is truly a conceited, cold-hearted man."

"I do not think..." Abby began, unsure. The tale had been objectionable on the whole, but she was not certain exactly which parts had rung false.

"Do you not agree? You must have taken note of his arrogance by now. Are you really surprised at him having done this?"

Indeed, Abby was not entirely convinced Colonel had fabricated the story. Marcus had been a little haughty from the moment they had been reunited. He had been condescending, looked down on her dwelling more than once, and even expressed dismay at Abby's desire to help the poor. All those details had only been accentuated by what Colonel had just told her.

She couldn't help but remember what he had said to hera week ago during his proposal. 

* * *

_She was faced with Marcus' warm brown eyes as she knelt with him on the potato bed._

_It would be so easy to say yes to him._

_Perhaps it could come out as only a whisper, but Marcus wouldn't need to be told twice. They would both rise and go back to the cottage. They would probably have tea while drawing up the marriage articles which was a very Marcus way to do it. She wouldn't be surprised if he ordained her a half of everything he owned in light of what had happened with Jake._

_The banns would be read and two weeks later Abby would wear her best gown and become eternally bound to him. Most likely they would stay one more night at Polis Park before the trip back to his estate, and they would..._

_If he asked, she would._

_Abby suddenly became mortified. What in god's name was she thinking?_

_There were a lot of very good reasons to turn him down. If only she could remember some of them, but her mind was filled with haze._

_Her pride would not recover, she managed to note first._

_Clarke would object._

_Marcus even making this offer was reprehensible in light of what had happened._

_The transformation of his personality over the years still troubled her._

_But most importantly:_

_She would keep Marcus from the love and happiness someone else could give him._  

_After everything she had done, he was still willing to throw away his only chance of marrying for love in order to keep her and her daughter safe._

_A painful lump rose into Abby's throat._

_She had never intended to tell him this, but she knew he would not rest until he was certain nothing would happen to her._

_Abby drew in a deep breath. "What if I can give you the assurance from someone other than me that my future will be secure?"_

_Marcus lifted his gaze. "Who would that be?"_

_"Do you remember when I told you it was probable Clarke would soon be engaged?"_

_"Yes," Marcus huffed out. "But if you mean to say that the young officer I saw Clarke with would be in a well enough situation to support you as well, with all courtesy, I have to object."_

_"Mr Collins?" Abby asked, amused. "No, my daughter is not in love with him, I would know. I'm talking about Sir Lincoln."_

_Marcus blinked._

_"I tell you this in confidence. But truly, it won't be a secret for much longer.  They are going to announce their engagement any day now," Abby smiled. "Please don't worry over me. I'll be taken good care of."_

_"Sir Lincoln?" Marcus repeated._

_Abby did not like his incredulous tone. "Yes. I have never seen my daughter more in love."_

_Suddenly, Marcus shifted. With a pained groan, he lifted himself back up. Abby began feeling a little insecure as he towered over her, his arms sternly akimbo._

_"Upon my word, if Sir Lincoln is courting your daughter, you may call me a donkey and pin a tail on my arse!"_

_Abby staggered up after him, not quite believing her ears. "Please give me a reason to look past your foul language and explain yourself!"_

_"I mean no offence, but I have met your daughter, and I firmly believe she is not a great enough simpleton to think Sir Lincoln has any romantic designs for her."_

_"Are you calling my daughter stupid?" she yelled._

_"I'm precisely not doing that!" Marcus shouted back at her. "I'm more so questioning your judgement. Your daughter scarcely expresses him even the appropriate amount of friendly regard. And to suggest Sir Lincoln to wants to marry her..."_

_He shook his head._

_"What makes the idea so preposterous? Is Clarke not good enough for him?" Abby narrowed her eyes. "Is that it? Is she too lowly in your eyes?"_

_"Don't put words into my mouth. It has nothing to do with your rank. Although..." Marcus said, starting to pace._

_"Although what?"_

_"Perhaps, just perhaps, you're expecting too much. I know for a fact that Sir Lincoln is not interested in your daughter, but you shouldn't put your hopes in the next wealthy gentleman that is your thrown your way either. Love is a rare commodity, and a man of his station ought to seek an advantageous match."_

_"You certainly know a lot about how the world works now that a fortunate has fallen on your lap," Abby said coldly. "You mean that I should be overjoyed to receive to your condescension. Praise theLord for he has looked favorably upon me! One doesn't dare hope a man of consequence someday kneels in dirt for you!"_

_Marcus rubbed his temples. "You know very well that was not what I meant. My offer has nothing to do with what is expected of Sir Lincoln."_

_"What is expected of him?" Abby repeated, shocked to have heard such a thing from his mouth._

_Marcus did not answer, but his meaning was clear. Sir Lincoln was expected to make a smart match._

_And Clarke was not part of the equation._

* * *

Abby chased away the unpleasant memories and tried to focus on her conversation with Colonel Pike again. 

"I do not entirely disagree," she admitted, taking a big gulp of her wine.

Colonel Pike smiled wryly at her. "I must confess, I'm happy you're not engaged to him. I would feel quite sorry for you if you were."

"Because you think he is a conceited bastard?"

Colonel's brow shot up at her language, but he let the faux pas slide with an amused grin. "Yes, that too. But I also think he could not truly love any woman. His heart is damaged."

Now Abby was curious. "How so?"

"He named his flagship after a woman. I strongly believe it was some childhood infatuation he never quite recovered from because he clamped shut like a clam whenever I asked about it. He will go to his grave pining for her, let me tell you." 

Abby shook her head. "His ship's name is Father's Joy. If she is named after anyone, it would be his daughter."

"One would think so. However, Father's joy is also the literal meaning of a certain biblical name. And I know what name that is."

Abby's whole being must have screamed the question because the man chuckled and drew closer to her. "I will tell you, but you have to promise not to pass along the information. I don't want to give him any more reasons to needlessly loathe me."

He leaned down with tantalizing slowness and whispered the name in her ear.

The very next moment, Colonel Pike's face was splashed with wine. 

Abby had promptly emptied the contents of her glass on his head, chest and shoulders. TheColonel let out a surprised, pathetic little noise, looking utterly flabbergasted in his wine-soaked state. She let out a contemptuous scoff at him, tossed her head back and marched away with righteous fury coursing through her veins.

Abby returned to Callie in the ballroom, seething. "I cannot believe I wasted god-knows-how-long entertaining Colonel Pike's wild tales. Lord Kane was right. I should've never given that bastard my time."

"What happened? Why are your gloves wet and stained?" Callie asked, horrified.

Abby huffed out. "It is only wine. It must have spilled on me too." She began tugging off her gloves, mourning the expensive fabric. 

"Do I want to know?"

Abby shook her head. "I was just the object of the most cruel, shameless joke, but I rewarded Colonel Pike accordingly. Now tell me, has anyone let him in the know of my given name?"

"I don't think so. It is not common knowledge, I think."

"It was probably Mrs Sidney, but that hardly matters. I'm sorry for leaving you like that for such a wretched cause. What did I miss while I was gone?"

Callie grimaced. 

Abby soon learned the reason why as the music started again and the whole room was filled with great hubbub and laughter. 

"Is that waltz?" she asked, shocked.

"Some wild version of it by the looks of it. **“** It's either that or Mrs Sidney has been aggressively fanning her face only for the sport of it. I'm surprised she has not swooned yet. I think I saw Miss McIntyre among the dancers."

"Fortunately I don't see Clarke. She has better sense that-"

"Hey! Nobody told us the dancing had commenced again! This is an atrocity!" yelled a male voice. "Come my fair lass, we shall ride to the battle against the wrongdoers together."

Abby turned around and saw none other than her daughter laughing so hard her face was scarlet red, riding piggyback to Mr Collins. The young man was imitating the sounds of a runaway horse, galloping to the dance floor.

Abby turned slowly to look at Callie, then looked back at her daughter. She squinted as if to ascertain it was really her. Mr Collins had now let her off his back and they were joining the others mid-dance.

"How long has this been going on?" Abby asked slowly.

"This is now the third set they are dancing together," Callie said quietly. "If it helps, they have not all been waltz."

"I will go to talk to the pianist," Abby said shakily. However, when she turned towards the pianoforte, she saw Miss Reyes on the helm. The young woman glanced at the dancing pairs every once in a while, but did not seem disturbed at all to see her Mr Collins with Clarke.

_God_ , Abby did not understand modern courtship anymore.

"Won't you try to stop this?" Callie asked.

"I would only end up embarrassing both my daughter and Miss Reyes. I will talk to Clarke after the dance. My greatest concern at the moment is that Sir Lincoln is not seeing this."

"I think he might be out with some other gentlemen, but I see his sister. She does not look too happy."

Abby noticed Miss Woods too. Callie's words had been a slight underestimation. With her clenched jaw, pale face and crossed arms, she looked what Abby supposed Miss Reyes ought to look watching the dance. 

Abby had to close her eyes for the rest of the dance. She kept breathing steadily, and as the music halted she felt completely calm. She started crossing the floor to her daughter when Mr Collins' voice rang out. "Another one!"

Fortunately, Miss Reyes started playing a more sedate melody this time, something that quickly dispersed the youngest and most rabid of the disappointed dancers. 

"Enough with the church music!" Mr Collins bellowed. "You will put everyone to sleep with that drivel, Reyes! Play us something lively again. You know what Miss Griffin likes."

For the first time Abby saw Raven looking truly angry. She glared at Mr Collins with the wrath of the thousand suns. But the moment only seemed to last for one small second. Soon the girl's expression slackened again, and she adopted an amiable smile - which was strongly contrasted to the aggressive way she slammed the keyboard shut and vacated the pianoforte.

The dancers all gaped as the girl stormed out of the room, most of all Mr Collins. 

Lady Trigeda came to the rescue. She had appeared in the room as the image of serenity despite the chaos that had just reigned there. She expressionesly gestured something to her daughter and soon Miss Woods had taken the pianoforte for herself. Mellow music filled the room, and the dancing commenced. Lady Trigeda nodded with a content expression, and after no eyes were directed at her anymore, she collapsed on the nearest sofa, rubbing her temples.

Mr Collins started leading Clarke out of the room. That Abby wouldn't let happen. She rushed after them. 

She spotted Mr Wells Jaha on her way to her daughter. "Wells, I want you to do me a favour. Go find Miss Reyes and be a friend to her. She is very upset," she called out. "Ask her to dance!"

"Oh, of course," Wells stuttered, and the next moment Abby had already left the bemused man.

Abby rushed after her daughter to the main hallway. She saw her disappear to the library and was just about to follow her when a surprising sound petrified her.

"Lord Kane," the footman announced. 

Abby spun around.

Marcus had just arrived through the doors and was taking his hat off. His eyes found hers at once. 

It was as if he had ridden to the ball through a storm. The shoulders of his thick coat had a white dusting, and there were snowflakes stuck to his dark curls and whiskers. He looked at her with wonder, his lips slightly parted. She soon realised he was staring at the white rose in her hair. 

She took one look at him, turned and walked back into the ballroom as raptly as she had from there emerged.

She went to her friend who stared at her, puzzled by her sudden return.

"Here, a rose for you," Abby said quickly, handing the ornament from her hair to Callie.

"Why thank you!" Callie said, somewhat baffled. "What for?"

"I need you to hide me. Lord Kane just arrived."

"I thought he was in London?"

"So did I," Abby cried out. "For the life of me, I cannot understand why he would come."

"Are you sure that is the only gentleman you wish to avoid?" Callie asked, nodding in the direction of Colonel Pike who had just wandered in. He was patting his clothes with a handkerchief, but that helped very little in salvaging his appearance. Lady Trigeda, whi had just arrived in the room as well, took one look at him, sighed, grabbed another wine glass from a servant and walked out of the room.

"You're right, we should leave. Is there any way other than through the main hallway to get to the library? I saw Clarke go there."

"Perhaps through the dinner parlour?" Callie suggested.

Their journey was intercepted the moment they stepped into the room in question. Mr Jaha stiffened like a predator spotting its prey as he caught the sight of Abby and before she even knew it, he was standing in front of the two with an unctuous smile on his face. 

"Mrs Griffin, may I have the pleasure of-"

"I'm not dancing tonight," Abby hastened to say. "I'm too weary. Besides, I believe my dancing days are over at this age altogether."

Mr Jaha's face fell. "Oh, very well then. Perhaps we could find ourselves a quiet corner instead-"

Abby did not allow him to finish his request. She had already rushed past him with Callie.

"That was impolite of you," her friend reproached. "Are you avoiding him as well now?"

"Let's just say I have received two proposals inside a month and I fear spending time alone with either of my so-called suitors will end in tears and hurling insults."

Callie's brow shot up. "And they say country life is uneventful!" 

After they were unable to locate Clarke in the library or any of the common rooms, they gave up the thankless pursuit and hid in the most invisible spot of the whole ball - behind the pianoforte. 

Callie played while Abby turned the pages, both doing poor job in their respective tasks for they were conversing in a low voice at the same time. 

Abby told Callie everything that had happened to her recently, from Mr Jaha's proposal to Marcus', and from Sir Lincoln's particular regard for Clarke to the apparent indifference between the two now.

"I fear I'm no longer in touch with young sensibilities. This night had been the proof of it. I don't understand what my daughter is doing and cannot see into her head as I once was able to. I feel like I have done a tremendous error in assuming her feelings - but what else could I do? She does not talk to me."

Callie smiled sympathetically. "I certainly do not look forward to my youngest girl coming to that age."

Abby sighed. "Lord Kane seems to have been right again."

"Speaking of which; I did not want to tell you, but he has been staring at you this whole time," Callie said, glancing over her shoulder. 

Abby snapped her head around, deemed Callie's words true and lowered her gaze again. 

"I did not know he had followed us again. I assumed he had found some other amusement than glaring at me by now," she muttered.

"I'd rather say he is admiring you. What other amusement does he need if he enjoys looking at you so?" 

"Callie," Abby hissed. "Do not trifle with me. You know how it ended. He despises me now."

"I wouldn't be so certain," Callie whispered and continued playing. "He is approaching us now."

"He is? What do I do?" Abby asked shakily, wrenching the next page open so roughly the paper tore.

"Just stay still."

Not one muscle in Abby's face did twitch as Marcus finally reached the pianoforte. He bowed for the two ladies. Callie offered him an amiable smile. Abby remained still, keeping her eyes fixed on the piano keys. 

"Mrs Griffin. May I have the next two dances?" he asked, stopping her heart.

"You may," she answered quickly, quicker than her mind could catch up with her words. She saw Marcus nod in the periphery of her vision, and then he was gone. 

"This is just what I feared," Abby breathed out when they were alone again. "This ball is really making me lose my mind."

"He does not look bitter or quarrelsome. I dare say you will find him a very agreeable partner."

Abby sighed. 

* * *

She had some ten minutes to prepare before Marcus came back to take herhand. He asked for a permission with his eyes and after receiving it, he wrapped his fingers gently around hers and began leading her away. She laid one last panicked glance at Callie who flashed her an encouraging smile. 

As he took her to the floor, Abby noticed her daughter through the open doorway. She seemed to be in a frenzied argument with Miss Woods. Abby could only be relieved that she was not in Mr Collins' company anymore, even if the talk her daughter was currently having was less than pleasant. 

The two disappeared through a door together, and Abby saw them no longer. 

She directed her attention at her partner. 

"You have lost your gloves," Marcus remarked, staring at her bare arms.

Abby snorted. "I think we both know I've done far more scandalous things than not wear gloves at a ball."

Marcus bowed for her, seeming somewhat flustered at her reply before grabbing her hand again and gliding to the formation with the other pairs. 

He was a surprisingly good dancer for someone who seemed to find little pleasure in the activity. His steps did not falter nor was he too fast or slow. His only fault was that he seemed as stiff as an iron rod; his every muscle from face to toes seemed strained. He also had not spoken one word to her since his first remark which made her feel uncomfortable. It would be exasperating to keep silent for the entire half an hour. 

"You seem tense," Abby started carefully. "But the dance is going well. You ought not to feel nervous.

"I'm not," he said, glancing at her hands again. 

This was a conversation as good as any. Abby decided to pursue it. "I thought you did not dance."

Marcus did not answer, and Abby bit back a sigh. "If you don't wish to speak, just tell me so. Otherwise it's your turn to make an observation and continue our conversation."

He hesitated for a moment before opening his mouth. 

"You look beautiful." 

It was Abby's turn to fall silent, and so she stayed for the rest of the dance. 

During the brief interval between the two dances, Abby rushed to talk with Callie. 

"I don't think I can take it anymore. I think he is trying to taunt me in some bizarre way and will only be content if I burst into tears or start screaming at him in the middle of the dance. Perhaps both."

"Do neither of those things!" Callie advised. "Before you go back, I must tell you - I saw Mr Jaha look very displeased to see you dance."

"I wholly forgot about him. God, how I have offended him by not refusing Lord Kane as well! Did he seem angry?"

"He looked more defeated. After all, Lord Kane has made his victory apparent."

"It is not as if we appear engaged! We have danced only one half of a set together."

"With Lord Kane's leg that is three full sets," Callie teased. 

Abby scoffed at that. 

There was something different about Marcus when she returned to him for the second dance. She could not quite pinpoint what it was, but his whole being seemed altered. He looked like the embodiment of nervous frenzy. 

Only the moment Marcus grasped her hand again did Abby realise she had just seen him without gloves for the first time during his stay. 

Marcus' bare fingers entwined with hers and it took a good while before Abby remembered to breathe again. 

The dance was Allemande, she realised with some alarm as the music started. Marcus wouldn't be letting go of her for a long time. 

The warmth of his touch surged through her with blazing force, causing her to miss a step or two. His hand was big and rough, like one of a labourer, but also soft and tender when he held her. 

The next thing she knew his hand was lowered on her upper back. It rested there, light and gentle, guiding her to the next set of movements. 

There were no words exchanged this time. Marcus remained silent as ever, as if nothing was out of ordinary while Abby had to gather all of her wits to keep herself focused. It was too easy to let her mind conjure wild thoughts about whether he had been planning this from the moment he decided to ask her to dance. 

Only after he lifted his arm to allow Abby turn underneath it, did she notice that he was not unaffected too. He released his hold of her for a moment and as they interlaced their arms again, she saw he was visibly shaken. He wouldn't look at her - his mouth was a thin straight line, his posture rigid and movements stiff, his fingers quivering as he reached for her. 

They touched again, and they both released a breath at the same time. 

Abby decided to adopt a nonchalant demeanor. It was only Marcus after all, and he seemed just as agitated as her. One dance and they would never talk about this again for it was clearly only a mistake. 

As she gained confidence, so did Marcus. His grip grew firmer and steps more assured. The next time they turned together, his hand slipped down to the small of her back. He corrected the position in an instant, but since Abby did not say a word and only looked coyly down for a reason she couldn't explain, he was more forgiving with himself when it happened again. 

It was not entirely unpleasant to have Marcus sometimes wind his hand around her waist instead of her back or feel his hand in hers. It began to actually feel fun to whirl around with him as the melody quickened. As Marcus clasped his hand with hers against her back, Abby playfully flicked the hair at the nape of his neck instead of letting her fingers modestly hover over the back of his head as was the custom. He lifted his brow, but Abby only smiled at him in return, trying to make him relax. They switched positions and it was Abby's turn to wind her arm to his back. Marcus lifted his hand to the nape of her neck. 

Instead of his hand fluttering above her skin like with the other pairs, it dipped down just as hers had done a moment ago. It landed on her hair. His fingers ran lightly along the length of her braid, curling loosely around it. He let the braid slide from between his thumb and forefinger a moment later. His touch lingered a fraction on the sensitive skin of her neck until he pulled away again. 

Abby was in shock. 

It was not his touch itself that had struck the breath out of her lungs - even though it must have been seen by Callie and she would have a lot of explaining to do to her after this - No, it had been the look in his eyes as he had caressed her hair. 

The look was familiar in the most unsettling way. 

"Please excuse me," Abby said, feeling too light-headed to finish the dance. She let go of his hand, causing Marcus to snap his attention back to her. 

He must have called out after her as she left the dance floor, but she couldn't quite hear anything except her own distressed thoughts. She weaved her way through the crowd, seeking a solitary space, any quiet corner would do. If Mr Jaha or Colonel Pike or Mrs Sidney would now try intercept her she would shove them **,** propriety be damned. 

She eventually found the door through which Clarke and Miss Woods had disappeared earlier. She was overjoyed to find a completely vacant, dark room. 

She slumped against the wall. She only had time to draw in a couple of deep breaths before the door opened, revealing distraught Marcus.

He took a few careful steps towards her before halting, deciding against approaching her. 

"I must apologize. That was beyond inappropriate," he breathed out. He looked deeply remorseful. "I will never touch you like that again. You have my word-"

"Please don't. Just... Don't." Abby buried her face in her hands. "This is not a conversation I want to have with you. If I had a problem with the way you touched me, I would have slapped you the moment I saw you had taken off your gloves."

"You were not wearing yours and I foolishly thought-"

Abby interrupted him, letting out a shuddering breath. "I do not understand you, Marcus. The moment I finally think I know what you want, I'm proven wrong."

Marcus did not answer.

"I just... cannot comprehend you anymore," Abby sighed.

* * *

_I cannot even comprehend you anymore!" Abby yelled. "What is expected of Sir Lincoln? Just listen to yourself! The Marcus I knew would never say something so conceited!"_

_"The Marcus you knew was an idiot," he said sharply._

_"An idiot I happened to..."_

_Abby did not finish her sentence, opting to look angrily away instead. Marcus stared at her for a moment, then sighed and raked his fingers through his hair._

_"Let's- let's entertain the notion that Sir Lincoln, indeed, is in love with your daughter and plans on marrying her. But what if his mother doesn't approve and prevents the union? What if he loses his fortune? What happens to you then?"_

_"I'm confident that nothing will stand on their way."_

_Marcus let out an exasperated groan. "Abby-"_

_"You have not seen what my daughter looks like when she thinks of him. I'm more certainthat they will marry than anything else in my life."_

_"They won't."_

_"How can you possibly know? I'm her mother!"_

_Marcus dared to smile at that. "As it would happen, I know because my-"_

_Abby looked up at him defiantly, a competitive idea forming in her head._

_"Tell you what, if Clarke is not engaged to Sir Lincoln in a month, I will marry you. And that is a solemn promise."_

_Marcus froze._

_At first he stared at Abby as if he could not believe his eyes, his mouth left in a dismayed 'o'. Then his face turned ashen._

_"Is- is this a wager to you?"_

_Abby's confident smile unraveled._

_"You lose, you marry me. You win, you get away," Marcus said quietly. "Isn't that exactly..."_

_Oh god. Not again. How could she do this to him again?_

_Marcus lifted his eyes, and Abby flinched as she saw the look in them. "I won't marry you against you will. You should know me better than that by now."_

_Raw hurt had reared its head like a wounded animal in his voice, in his expression, in his slumped shoulders. He looked utterly destroyed._

_"No, Marcus. I didn't mean that" Abby said carefully, her voice shaking._

_She couldn't believe herself. Marcus had exposed her his soft underbelly, the part of him that hadbeen aching for two decades, and she had torn the wound open in a matter of a few heartbeats._

_"It was only a jest," she tried, grabbing his shoulders._

_Marcus hung his head. "Isn't it always with you?"_

_"Marcus, you have to believe me-"_

_He laid his eyes at the soiled patches on his breeches and made some half-hearted attempts to shake out the dirt. He then offered a small incline of his head at Abby._

_"I'm sorry for taking so much of your time," he said hoarsely, not looking her in the eye._

_He then stepped back, ridding himself of her touch and began marching away._

_Panic rose in Abby. "Please, Marcus. Don't go!"_

_He released a shuddering breath and continued walking._

" _Marcus!" she cried after him. "I haven't given you my true answer!"_

_He did not look back at her._  

* * *

Abby stared at Marcus in amazement. He was there, in this dark room with her, even after her unintentionally crushing treatment of him at the end of his disastrous proposal. It was plain awe-inspiring. 

Her head ached trying to find meaning in his actions, but she came up with nothing. Marcus continued watching her with an unreadable expression, but there was something small, something akin to vulnerability or hope or both flickering in his eyes and the corner of his mouth. 

"You are standing there and looking at me as if I should know why you came. I do not know. I thought you hated me."

"Of course I came. You were upset so I followed you."

She shook her head vigorously, glaring at him.

"No, I don't mean this moment. I want to know why you came to the ball tonight." 

More questions sprang up in her mind so she poured them out. "Or to my garden last week! To Hertfordshire after eight years! Why?" 

The strange emotion on Marcus' face only grew. The way it resembled a smile only infuriated Abby. She kept on going. "Why did you ask me to dance? Why did you take me to London? Why did you lie to Mr Jaha to help me?" 

Her voice began quivering as she took support from the wall. "Why- why do you keep forgiving me? Why do you keep coming back? 

"Because I'm an idiot," he said softly. "That I shall always be."

He looked at Abby meaningfully, as if she was supposed to decipher something from him insulting himself. He looked as if he wanted to say something more, his whole being looking somehow feather-light and burdened at the same time. In the end, he only looked at her tenderly and bowed. 

"I have been doing some thinking - but I won't burden you with what I feel tonight. I hope to find a better time. Good night, Abby."

The door opened and closed, and he was gone. 

"An idiot you certainly are," Abby sniffled after him. She brushed her knuckles over her eyes. 

She stayed in the room for a long time. She wanted to be certain that Marcus had left and rebuild her composure in peace. When she finally emerged out, she decided to wander aimlessly around, hoping to find her daughter by sheer luck. 

Some gentleman brushed past her, bumping his shoulder painfully against her. As she heard no apology, she shot a fiery look at his back. "Excuse me!"

The man pretended not to hear her, and some people who had witnessed the incident only sniggered. Abby let out an indignant huff and stomped away. Alcohol certainly had a poor effect on good manners. 

She arrived at a parlour and was soon beckoned by Mrs Sidney who was sitting around a table with some other ladies. "Mrs Griffin, just who we wanted! Come join our game."

Abby gathered all the politeness left in her. "I'm afraid I'm too tired for cards, Mrs Sidney. The night has been long."

"This is not a card game. We are playing word puzzles! I know how much you love those." Diana pointed at the alphabet tiles on the table. They were compiled in jumbled words the other ladies were trying to solve. 

Abby suppressed a sigh, knowing Mrs Sidney would act mortally wounded if she refused. "Perhaps only for one round."

Mrs Sidney clapped her hands together. "How fun! I know just the puzzle for you."

Abby sat down as she rearranged the letters. The other ladies were looking at her strangely. Abby wondered whether they had seen her interrupt her dance with Marcus and storm off.

"Here you go!" Diana exclaimed. 

Abby peered at the letters. 

HARTOL

She hardly believed her eyes. _Harlot_?

She scowled. This was heinous even by Mrs Sidney's standards. She, a woman far from the first blush of maidenhood, had only danced half a set gloveless, in a private ball, with a gentleman! Abby would've expected Diana to needle her about it for a month or two, but never to insult her to her face in such a manner.

There was no reason to rouse a ruckus, however. Perhaps she had misunderstood. 

"I apologize. This one is too hard for me," Abby said, smiling apologetically. 

"Let's give her an easier one, shan't we?" Mrs Sidney sniggered with her friends who nodded vigorously. There was now something very unpleasant about the way the other ladies were watching her, and she was starting to feel a less at ease.

Mrs Sidney arranged the letters again. 

HWORE 

_Whore_.

Abby felt a nauseating twist at the bottom of her stomach as she looked at the puzzle. She was starting to feel like this was not about her dance with Marcus after all. 

"Actually, I don't think I feel like playing," she said, trying to rise from her seat. Mrs Sidney grabbed her arm. 

"Not before you get at least one right! I know just the one you cannot miss."

Abby watched with impending horror as the woman started gleefully compiling a very long word while the others stared at her with more coldness than she had ever been regarded with before.

"Here you have it! What do you guess?"

GAMISTBI

The meaning was evident. Still, she stared at the letters. She stared at them until her eyes glazed over and they began not to look like letters at all. She only woke up from her trance at the taste of bile in her throat.

"Excuse me," she said eventually, somewhat startled that her voice worked. She rose slowly as the women watched her as they would a dirty animal. She walked out of the room with small, wobbly steps. 

"Excuse me," she found herself saying again as more people piled on her way. They hardly  realised to move from their stares. 

It was so eerily quiet.

She had a faint plan to find Clarke and leave but took steps in no particular direction. Perhaps it didn't matter how fast she found her. The damage was already done. Somehow, the secret was out.

She stepped into the main parlour, and every head turned towards her. She ducked her head  down and continued walking towards the spot where everyone else was gathered.

The local drunkard, Mr McCreary was standing on a tea table in a dramatic fashion, holding a crumpled piece of paper in his hands. "You lot are no fun! I only need me a lady to play Mrs Griffin. To make it fair, I'll be the cuckolded husband this time, someone else can be the poor lad in the receiving end of the letter-"

"That is quite enough of drunken renactments for this evening," Lady Trigeda loudly announced and snatched the letter from his hands.

  _Marcus was supposed to burn that_ , she noted numbly.

The crowd dispersed as the fun was over, glancing at Abby over their shoulders as they left. She could look none of them in the eye. She felt like she would shatter if faced with one more disdainful look. 

Lady Trigeda quickly read through the letter, her stony expression unwavering as her eyes flickered over the words. Abby knew it was useless to stop her. She and everyone else was already aware of the letter's contents, if not the wording. As she reached the last sentence, she glanced at Abby, then crumpled the letter. The paper ball was them flung into the nearest fireplace where it blackened and shrunk until there were only ashes left.

"I think it would be for the best if you and your daughter returned home."

Abby nodded.

"I don't care enough about these people to be bothered by their judgement if I were to arrange you a carriage," Lady Trigeda said colourlessly. "However, the person you undoubtedly meant this letter for is my friend. The way you treated him... I cannot look past that, even if it was decades ago, and even if I'm at this very moment more disappointed in him than I have ever been in my life."

With that said, she turned her back to her and walked away as if she had not just shattered Abby's whole being. 

She would not cry. She would be damned to cry in front of all these condeming people. She would find Clarke, and they would walk home if it was the only way to get out of here. 

She didn't have to look for long. Callie was soon rushing towards her, dragging bewildered Clarke after her. 

"Our carriage is waiting outside. It can take you home at once," she explained hurriedly. The kindness of her friend was so tremendous Abby barely prevented herself from tearfully embracing her.

"Mama, what is going on?" Clarke looked frightened. "Did I do something wrong? Is this because of Miss Woods and I?"

Abby shook her head vigorously. "Of course not. Why would it be...? Listen, has anyone acted untoward to you this past hour?"

Clarke pondered for a moment. "Mr Collins suddenly deserted me, but he had been acting strangely the whole night anyway. And then there was Sir Lincoln... when I greeted him across the room it felt like he pretended not see me."

Abby's heart sank into her stomach. It was suddenly hard to breathe. This is her fault. This all her fault.

"Dearest, we need to leave. I promise to explain everything on the way. But it has to be now."

"Can I at least say goodbye?"

"I'm afraid not, dearest." Abby grabbed her hand.

She walked through the room with as much grace and dignity as she could muster, her daughter in her hand and Callie at her tail. As she had promised, the carriage was waiting for them by the entrance. Abby almost collapsed at the relief, startling her daughter.

"I'll fetch our coats," Clarke said hurriedly and skittered away. Abby was left alone, hugging herself as Callie peered at her incredulously. 

"Not you too," Abby sighed. 

"I just want to know _why_ ," Callie said quietly.  Why did you do it? I thought you loved Jake."

"I did. I still do."

"Then how could you do that to him? I do not understand."

"I wish to make one thing clear. I never once betrayed him. What me and M- the man I addressed the letter to did was a horrendous, reckless mistake, but he never imposed on anything meant only for my husband. I wouldn't allow him anything b..."

She thought better than to finish the sentence. 

Now Callie was confused. "You never... laid with him?"

Abby pinched her eyes shut. She should have expected this question, but it still hurt to hear it.

"Never. I'm _not_ an adulterer. You know me better than that."

"You never even kissed him?" Callie asked carefully.

"No," Abby choked out. The first tears were pooling in the corner of her eyes. 

"What we did was _far_ worse."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For people good at anagrams: Surprised? Shocked?
> 
> For people who have not guessed yet: absolutely everything will become clear in the next chapter.


End file.
